16
If knowing's a battle, my mind cannot choose a side
DECEMBER 3rd 2002
It was the wee hours of the morning when Ryoga was standing in front of his house, a little surprised with himself that he had managed to find it as quickly as he did. Maybe it was the universe's way of paying him a small kindness after plenty of years of lousy luck.
Or maybe he was just that eager to get out of the cold. It normally didn't get quite this chilly until closer to January. Early December was still cold, but manageable with a coat. Which, well, Ryoga didn't exactly have at the moment. He wondered if it really was a colder December than usual, or if it was just because he didn't have a coat. Or maybe it was because the thick sweater he wore wasn't enough for his now slender build to retain body heat. He supposed it was probably an unfortunate combo of the three.
He swiped at his slightly-runny nose as he walked up and unlocked the front door. Ryoga carefully shut the door behind him—it was around two in the morning, and if either of his parents were actually home at the moment then they were likely in bed. Shirokuro wasn't at the door, and usually she was already there jumping around the moment she heard the key slide into the lock. She did like sleeping in his parent's bedroom, especially when his mom was home, so maybe…
Ryoga walked further into the house and peeked into the living room off to the right of the entryway, but Shirokuro wasn't on the couch or on her dog bed by the radiator in there, either.
He made his way into the kitchen down the hall next. The note he had left for his parents was right where he had left it on the counter, and there were no other signs throughout that anyone had passed through, cooked a meal, or restocked the fridge since Ryoga had been there several weeks prior.
Ryoga stood in the middle of the dark kitchen, and let out a long sigh. Quiet had never felt so loud.
The lack of booby traps throughout the rest of the house was the final clue Ryoga needed to know for certain that neither of his parents had made it back home yet. After exploring the main level, he headed upstairs to his bedroom.
"Thereyou are," Ryoga said as he passed through the doorway to his room, spotting Shirokuro laying in his bed.
It wasn't until he spoke that Shirokuro lifted her head, and when she realised who was standing there her drowsy expression perked up instantly and she jumped down from the bed and trotted eagerly over to Ryoga. Ryoga let out a small laugh, kneeling down to scrub at Shirokuro's fluffy ears as she licked at his face.
"Hey, girl," Ryoga said, "Thanks for looking after the house."
Although if hehadbeen a burglar, he could have easily made off with any valuables and been long gone by now, since Shirokuro had been fast asleep upstairs this whole time. She usually shot awake at the slightest sound. But then again, she was getting on in years. Old dogs did a whole lot of sleeping. He wasn't about to give her a lecture about it.
Maybe he ought to reset his mom's traps for her before he left again.
Ryoga dropped his backpack off in his bedroom and then headed to the bathroom. He had grown so accustomed to a nice fluffy futon, so those two nights in a tent had done a number on him. He ached all over, and he felt chilled to the bone. He was dying for a nice, hot bath.
Shirokuro was right at his heels, following him down the hallway, and stuck around with him in the bathroom as he filled the bath. He pulled out an extra towel and laid it out across the tiled floor, and Shirokuro made quick work of turning it into a makeshift dog bed.
Ryoga sank gratefully into the bath as Shirokuro curled up like a fawn on the towel. Ryoga leaned back in the water and stared up at the ceiling, watching steam billow through the humid air.
He shuffled around awkwardly, trying to find a position where he could stretch out his legs out a little, but the tub wasn't equipped for that. Ryoga tried to get as much of his body enveloped in the hot water as he could, but he'd practically have to lie down flat with his head submerged below the water to accomplish that.
Ryoga looked across to the faucet on the other end of the tub, noticing for the first time that it had been updated from what he remembered. His mom must have put in something a bit more modern in the last few years.
He watched it for three full minutes, but the faucet didn't drip once.
Ryoga lifted his hand out of the water, watching the water drip-drop off of his fingertips and land in the -plip-plip.
He missed the much larger furo at the Tendo Dojo, drippy faucet and all.
JANUARY 2000
It wasn't too late. He could still turn back right now.
Ranma shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and looked down at the key in his hand for what felt like the hundredth time.
He had completely forgotten that Ryoga had given it to him until he happened across it while cleaning the house earlier that morning. Ranma wouldn't have even known what in the world the key unlocked if his past self hadn't had the wherewithal to stick a keychain on it.
It was a small plush of P-chan, or what at least Akane hadintendedto look like P-chan when she had made it. It was just a black felt pom-pom with two glued-on, very lopsided googly-eyes. There had been two black pipe cleaners for ears at some point, but both of them had fallen off, so now it just kind of looked like Marvin the Martian from Looney Tunes without his helmet on.
The googly eyes were looking in complete opposite directions as Ranma looked down at the keychain, ruminating on his thoughts. He gave the keychain a rattle, but that didn't help it look any less goofy.
Ranma looked back up at the house.
He could still turn back.
Ranma passed through the small gate and up the front steps, shoving the key into the lock. He could instantly hear the telltale sound of paws clattering across the floor through the door.
He opened the door, and was instantly met with a mound of black and white fur that nearly tackled him off of the front steps.
"Aagh!" Ranma yelped, bringing up his arms to block his face from an onslaught of gross dog tongue. "Getoffame, Shirokuro!"
Shirokuro sat back on her haunches and allowed Ranma to get back to his feet. She panted excitedly as he headed inside the house, following closely behind.
"Anyone else home, girl?" Ranma asked.
Shirokuro let out a happyawoo.
"Well, you ain't much help."
Ranma shoved the house key back into his pocket and then made his way further into the house. He stopped suddenly as he reached the door into the kitchen, catching sight of a strange glint by the doorknob.
"Oh, right. Mrs. Hibiki always sets up traps for burglars," Ranma muttered to himself, "Gotta be careful movin' around."
He knelt down and unfastened the invisible fishing line from around the doorknob, making a mental note to reset the traps before he left.
Ranma headed into the kitchen, and was instantly met with a smell that had Ranma crinkling up his nose in absolute disgust. The closed door had sealed off the aroma from the rest of the house. It did not take long to find the culprit.
On the counter was a bowl that was full of…somethingcovered in a thick layer of green and white fuzzy mould. Ranma would have had no way to tell what the food had used to be if not for the note left on the counter, which Ranma picked up to read.
Hello dear,
I have a red eye flight to get to, I won't be back for a few days. I made you some katsudon for dinner.
Your loving wife Chiyoko
Ranma set aside the note and looked back at the mould-filled bowl, his shoulders slumping. He located the trash bin and—oof, okay, looked like the stench was coming from more than just the expired katsudon.
Ranma dumped out the putrid contents of the bowl with a grimace into the equally foul trash bin. Then he tied the bag closed and carried it out the side door and left it outside in the larger garbage bin next to the house. He replaced the bag in the kitchen trash bin, and then cleaned out the remnants of strange, black juice and mould from the bowl he'd emptied.
And then he tracked down a disinfectant cleaning spray and wiped down all of the surfaces, clearing away a thin layering of dust, and filling the room with the scent of synthetic lavender and lemon.
Next, Ranma opened up the fridge and began checking the expiry dates on the items within, and quickly had a sizable pile started on the counter. The new bag in the trash bin got a quarter of the way filled with the contents from the fridge, but Ranma tied it off and brought it outside with the other one all the same, and then replaced the bag a second time.
He cleaned some leftover dishes in the sink, and then scrubbed and rinsed out the walls of the sink after the dishes were finished.
After a little poking around, he found that there was a small closet used for storing some extra appliances, dry goods, and a mop and bucket. Perfect.
A half an hour later, he was standing in the middle of the now-immaculate kitchen with floors so polished he could see his own reflection in them. Ranma scratched at the base of his braid awkwardly.
"Well, s'not like I coulda left it in such a sorry state." Ranma mumbled, "So much for a quick in and out…"
Ranma left the spotless kitchen and then hesitated in the hallway for a moment, considering his next move.
He thought about leaving yet again. If he left right now, then he would have yet to confirm anything for certain. And maybe that was how it ought to be. After all, it seemed that Ryoga's parents were going on with their lives like nothing was wrong.
Like their son hadn't been missing for over three years.
After the failed wedding, Ryoga never turned up around the Tendo Dojo again. Ranma never ran into him by chance, or found him camping out in a vacant lot somewhere in the neighbourhood, or walking aimlessly around the streets not even sure he was still in Tokyo. And all of that was fairly normal enough; they could sometimes go months on end without seeing the hide nor hair of Ryoga.
The weird part had been the complete lack of letters. The dolt had always sent Akane a plethora of souvenirs from his travels, despite having a girlfriend he ought to have been buying gifts for.
Ranma was drawn out of his thoughts by Shirokuro's wet snout bumping into his palm. He gave her a slightly distracted head rub while he looked over towards the stairs.
Itstillwasn't too late. He could still leave, right now.
Ranma walked over to the staircase and headed for the second level of the house, and into the second room on the right. Ryoga's bedroom.
The door was already left ajar, so Ranma stood in the threshold looking inside. It looked the same as ever, a standard bedroom filled with touristy paraphernalia that Ryoga had amassed in all of his travels. There was such a vast collection of trinkets that Ranma did not believe he could parse if there had been anything new added to the collection recently, so there was no way to find some kind of clue about where Ryoga had been as of late.
All Ranma had to go on was that Ryoga had managed to make it back to China, and to Jusenkyo. And that was only after the casks showed up shortly after he and Akane had graduated high school, which already felt like a thousand years ago, and could have been weeks or even months after Ryoga had gotten them sent out. There was no way Ryoga would still be in Jusenkyo. Which left the whole of China as a possibility for where he wound up next. And that was onehellof a search area.
Ranma stepped over to the nearby shelf, cluttered with figurines and masks and postcards and other odds and ends, picking up a bobble-headed kokeshi doll and watched as it nodded its head vigorously when he gave it a slight wiggle. He set the doll back in its spot on the dusty shelf, then turned around to look about the rest of the room. His eyes stopped when they spotted something a bit peculiar on the bed: a stack of papers on one of the pillows.
Walking over to investigate further, Ranma recognized the same handwriting on the first piece of paper on the stack. He didn't want to disturb the pile, but leaned down a little to get a better look. There was a date at the top right corner of the page: May 1996.
Just a month after his and Akane's botched wedding attempt, and a month since he had seen Ryoga. The note was as equally casual as the one Ranma had found in the kitchen earlier. It was a request from Ryoga's mother for him to pick up dog food for Shirokuro. Perfectly mundane, nothing out of the ordinary.
But that was onethickstack of paper.
Ranma swallowed thickly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and brought the stack into his lap, and began to flip through.
The dates were sporadic, on track with what Ranma assumed from Ryoga's family, with how rarely they all managed to find their way home. There were a couple of notes from Ryoga's father mixed into the pile as well, and both his and Mrs. Hibiki's letters started off short and simple. Updates on Mrs. Hibiki's shifts as a flight attendant, and Mr. Hibiki's next location for a conference or other business trips. Asking Ryoga to remember to take Shirokuro for a walk, or water the plants in the garden, or pick up some green onion for a dinner none of them would be present for.
After a while, neither of Ryoga's parents asked their son to run an errand or handle a chore around the house. They just gave updates on their lives, and said how much they missed him; that they hoped to see him soon.
Ranma's brow furrowed, and then he picked up the stack and flipped through the pages with the pad of his thumb flapping across the edges, just enough to catch the date in the corner without reading the contents of each note.
A year went by. Then two.
Ranma set aside the rest of the stack and held up the last piece of paper, dated Christmas Day, 1999. It was written just three weeks ago.
Ryoga,
Every year my Christmas wish was for all of us to find our way home so we could all spend the holidays together. But now, every year, my only wish is just to hear from you. A letter, a call. Anything to let me know you're safe. I just wish I could know that my baby boy is okay.
Wherever you are, my sweet son, I hope you have a safe and happy Christmas.
And of course, happy belated birthday, Yo-Yo.
Love always,
Mom
Ranma put the final note back with the rest, and placed it gently back where he had found it on top of the pillow. Then, skin feeling tingly and numb and his limbs moving as though on autopilot, Ranma crawled further onto the bed and laid his head back on the other pillow, and stared up at the ceiling.
So even after three years, Ryoga's parents hadn't given up hope. They had not come to assume the worst, instead only wishing that someday their son would finally return, or just give them any sign that he was at least okay, wherever he was.
Nobody in Ranma's life was doing that. The people that had known Ryoga best knew that even he wouldn't have been gone for so long, and even if he wasn't able to make it back into town for some reason, he would have at the very least sent some updates on his travels or the odd souvenir would have arrived in the mail.
When those casks arrived, Ranma had felt a swirl of relief and dread. He had waited around for months afterward for any more updates from Ryoga, thinking that since he was rid of the Jusenkyo curse, he might've found a newfound vigour in his quest to win over Akane's affections, now that the looming threat of her discovering that he had been her pet pig was removed from the equation. Surely the idiot would start to send out souvenirs in droves, or some mushy letters, maybe even some official challenge to duel Ranma for her heart. But nothing ever came. And once again, Ranma felt both relief and dread in equal measure.
Then Akari had started coming around, and that's when everyone truly started to fear the worst. Not even his kinda-girlfriend but mostly glorified penpal was receiving any letters from Ryoga. Not a single person had heard from him. Something wasverywrong.
It was a real shame that Ryoga had to miss all the fretting Akane had done over him. He would have been over the moon if he had seen just how concerned she had been for his well-being. It used to be that they couldn't get through the week without a comment about Ryoga from Akane, asking yet again if Ranma had seen him wandering around town, if he had heard from him at all. Then the worry grew, and she started to ask if they should start to put up posters, if Ranma had a way of contacting his family, if they should go out into the mountains and try and search for Ryoga themselves.
Ranma's response had always been the same; that Akane was getting all worked up over nothing, and that just because Ryoga had been gone for a long time didn't automatically mean some dreadful fate had befallen him. That he would probably turn up out of the blue in just a couple more months and put all their worries to bed at last.
Eventually, she stopped asking. And over time, her trepidation turned into more of a subtle melancholy. And after that, a quiet acceptance of sorts. If she mentioned Ryoga, she did so in the past tense. Like he was something of the past. Like he was…
Ranma dug his key out of his pocket and held it aloft. He gave it a slight jingle, trying to right the eyes to face the proper direction, but something made from Ryoga's likeness wasn't meant to do anything in the right direction, Ranma supposed.
"Ryoga," Ranma sighed softly, "Whathappenedto you…?"
The guy was a hopelessly directionless fool, but evenhewould find where he was going eventually. He had never been lost for so long. Something bad had clearly happened, and the possibilities of what that could have been were endless. Ryoga could have wound upanywhere.
But what good would it do, for him to sustain the same desperate hope that Ryoga's parents did? Why had he been so stubborn and clung to the thought that Ryoga would eventually return, when even Akane was already talking about him with the same rarity and cadence that she used when she talked about her own mother. She had dealt with loss before; she knew how to handle it better than most.
Ranma didn't have anything to compare the feeling to.
And, while it felt awful to think about, at least Akane had known for certain that her mother wastrulygone. She had watched her mother go right before her eyes. With Ryoga, there was no such certainty. No closure. He couldn't say that Ryoga was definitely d—
Ranma closed his eyes.
"Man, I'm pathetic," Ranma muttered, "Can't eventhinkof the word, much less say it out loud."
He had never lost anyone like that before. He hadn't lost a parent like Akane had. As a child, he knew that he had a mothersomewhere. That she wasn't dead, just that she wasn't around. Once he finally got to meet her, he had been desperate to keep her in his life. And now that she was, he knew that when she did pass on one day, he would certainly be sad about it. But that, hopefully, wouldn't be for many years to come. It wasn't exactly something he liked to think about. Besides, he had never been one to linger on the past or overthink about the future. He just liked living in the present.
When that lecherous putz Happosai had kicked the bucket back in '97, nobody had shed a single tear except for his disciples. And Ranma wasn't too sure how genuine those tears had really been, considering his Pops and Mr. Tendo had been dabbing at their eyes all while dribbling their master's remains piecemeal into the toilet, lips quivering while they intermittently flushed to avoid clogging the pipes with the old codger's ashes. Ranma certainly felt no love lost himself. He had honestly wished it'd happened a hell of a lot sooner.
The closest thing he had to compare it to was Akane. Back when he had thought he had lost her for good back in the Jusendo caves all those years ago, a day still so vivid in his mind it felt like it had happened just yesterday.
Really, Ranma had thought Akane had lost her lifetwiceduring the events with Saffron. Back when she was first dehydrated after touching the handle of the Kinjakan and had shrivelled into a small, doll-like form and disappeared into her own clothes, Ranma spent over an hour thinking she had evaporated before his very eyes, trying to save his life.
He really couldn't remember much of what had occurred between that moment she had vanished, and when her doll form was finally discovered. He had completely shut down. He was pretty sure Ryoga had to carry him out of there before they were all swallowed up in Saffron's silken, hardening threads. He could also vaguely recall Ryoga by his side later on, telling him that he had to somehow find the will to live, as impossible as the thought seemed.
What would he have done if she hadtrulybeen gone at that moment? Would he have just been stuck that way, in a state of muted shock forever, clinging to a deep and dark despair that felt like it would swallow him whole?
And then later on, as he was holding her seemingly lifeless body in his arms after he had finally defeated Saffron, he could remember screaming her name, thinking that time she truly was dead. That he had failed.
He still had nightmares about all of it.
What if Akane had never opened her eyes? What would he have done then? Would they have all just headed back to Japan and tried to carry on with their lives? Perhaps Ranma and his father would leave the Tendo Dojo. Or, even worse of a fate, he would have been expected to still carry on the Anything-Goes school and be forced to marry either Kasumi or Nabiki, instead. Both of whom would have easily blamed him for their sister's death…
Ranma's still-closed eyes scrunched tighter shut as he shook his head back and forth, batting those thoughts away. There was no sense in catastrophizing over all of that now. Akane had woken up, she was alive and well, she was his wife, and they were running the dojo together. It was a perfect life.
Well,nearlyperfect.
But something—someone—was missing from it.
Ranma rolled onto his side, tucking his face into the pillow under his head.
It shouldn't have been possible, since Ryoga wouldn't have touched these sheets in years, and probably hardly spent many nights in his own bed even when he had been around…
…but Ranma could swear they still carried a little bit of his scent.
He burrowed his face a little deeper into the pillow, staying there for a moment before he suddenly shot upright, his heart hammering.
What the hell was he even doing? He'd been here way longer than he had planned to be already. He should go. Akane was probably wondering where he went.
Ranma pulled himself out of Ryoga's bed and stood up, when something else caught his eye. Over on a dresser was a picture frame. Stepping up to the dresser, Ranma picked up the small frame, recognizing the building in the background of the photo as his old junior high school. And there in the foreground was Ryoga, gangly and grouchy-faced as he glowered embarrassingly into the camera, clutching the straps of his schoolbag in tight fists by his shoulders.
Looking exactly as he did the very first day that Ranma had met him.
There were several clusters of boys in the background, walking together through the school gates and all dressed in the same navy blue gakuran that Ryoga wore, freshly-pressed and brand new. Off to the left side of the photo, in the background near the walls bordering the school, Ranma noticed something else.
There was another boy walking on his own towards the front gates of the school, a faded leather school bag slung over his shoulder. Unlike Ryoga and the other boys in the picture, his uniform was thrifted and ill-fitting, two sizes too small for him.
In the breeze, his long hair billowed behind him, tied into a low ponytail.
Ranma was looking at a photo ofhimself, seven years younger.
Despite himself, Ranma found himself letting out a huff of a laugh. Had Ryoga ever noticed that Ranma was in the background of this shot? If he had, Ranma was sure it would have given him some mild annoyance. He was honestly surprised to see Ryoga hadn't scribbled over his face or written 'bastard Saotome'over his head, or something.
It gave Ranma some pause as he wondered whythispicture in particular was displayed alone in its own frame. Surely there had been other memories that Ryoga's parents had captured over the years. Why would this picture of a sour-faced fourteen-year-old Ryoga standing begrudgingly for a photo in front of his school's front gate, commemorating a moment that surely only his mother had cared about, get chosen to be displayed in a frame when surely a family photo or something would have been the obvious choice?
Ranma found his fingers moving of their own accord, flipping the picture frame over and popping off the backing. He suddenly paused, noticing that there was something written on the back of the photo. It was written in Ryoga's handwriting.
Mine (and Ranma's) first day of junior high
April '93
Ranma's lips pressed together, and he felt his throat thicken dangerously. He swallowed roughly, choking down the sensation, then let out a rattling breath.
He shoved the photo into his pocket with one hand and scrubbed brusquely at his nose with the other, which was threatening to run despite his valiant efforts.
Ranma put the frame back together and set it back on the shelf, now empty.
It was stupid to take the photo for himself. He ought to put it back. What if Ryoga's parents came in here and noticed it was gone? They would think that it wasRyogathat had tampered with the frame. He would just be adding on to their false hope.
Ranma pulled the picture back out of his pocket, but hesitated. He looked down, looking into the narrowed hazel eyes of a Ryoga fresh into his adolescent years. It wasn't how Ryoga looked the last time Ranma had seen him.
But it was the first. And it was better than nothing.
With a resigned sigh, Ranma pushed the photo back into his pocket and left the room. Shirokuro was waiting just outside in the hallway, as though she had been purposefully trying to give Ranma some privacy looking through his old friend's room, as strange of a thought as that was. Ranma wouldn't put it past her, though. He'd never been much of a pet person, but Shirokuro was an exception. There was a keenness in her eyes that Ranma hadn't seen in most of the dogs he had encountered before.
Shirokuro leapt to her feet as Ranma came out into the hall, trotting alongside him as he made his way back towards the stairs and down to the main floor. He was about to step into his shoes when another thought came to him, and he popped his head quickly into the living room.
As he suspected, Shirokuro's food and water was kept there. The water dish was attached to a larger plastic jug of water, which seemed to refill the dish automatically when the bowl itself got too low. The food bowl had a similar set-up, looking to be on a timer that would trickle out more kibble several times throughout the day. About as good of a setup for a pet as there could be, for a household where Shirokuro's owners were so rarely home.
Ryoga had told Ranma before that Shirokuro had a doggy door that allowed her to leave the house freely, so if her food and water ran dry, she at least had a way of getting out to fend for herself if needed. From the looks of it, the food and water containers were both around half-full. Which made sense, considering Mrs. Hibiki had been by as recently as Christmas Day to handle a refill.
Ranma walked further into the living room and pulled off the water jug and kibble container from their respective bowls and carried them both into the kitchen. He refilled the water jug straight to the top at the sink and then located the bag of dog food he recalled seeing earlier in the storage closet to top up the kibble container.
He set both containers back into their spots, all while Shirokuro watched on, wagging her tail. Ranma scrubbed the backs of her ears as she pranced around his legs once his task was complete, chuckling under his breath.
"Yeah, you're welcome."
Then, something else popped back into his mind.
"Ah, crap. The booby trap."
He hurried back to the kitchen door and closed it, then carefully tied the string back around the door handle.
"Okay. That should be everything. For real, this time." Ranma said as he walked back over to his shoes.
Shirokuro watched on, sitting on her haunches while she panted happily. After slipping on his shoes, Ranma looked back over his shoulder and gave the dog a small, wistful smile.
He went over and kneeled down to a crouch, reaching up to rub both hands into the fluffy mane around Shirokuro's neck. "Hey. How's about I come back and visit? I can check in on ya, make sure you got food, that you're feelin' alright. Not getting yourself knocked up with another litter of pups. But, well, it ain't like it'd be a big deal if yadid. I mean, you're your own woman, can't exactly stop ya. I'd look after ya if it did wind up happenin' again. What's the cut off for dog pregnancy, anyway? You still in your child-rearin' years?"
Shirokuro just tilted her head at him. Ranma scratched behind her ear, and leaned in a little closer.
"Hey, can ya keep a secret?"
Shirokuro's ear flickered when Ranma whispered into it, and she turned her head to shove her snout into Ranma's hand, lapping at his hand and wrist.
"...I think Akane might be pregnant," Ranma said quietly, "But that stays between us, alright? I don't even thinksheknows it, yet. But, I dunno, I just…it feels different this time, y'know? I think this might finally be it."
Shirokuro's tail thumped hard against the floor, and she lunged forward to swipe her tongue across Ranma's cheek several times before Ranma gently pushed her off.
"Hey now, I don't know forsureyet!" Ranma laughed, scrubbing his wet cheek off on his shoulder, "But when Idofind out, I'll be sure to let ya know, next time I come 'round to give ya some company. Here, we'll even shake on it."
Ranma held out his hand and Shirokuro was quick to place her paw against his open palm. Ranma closed his fingers and bobbed his arm up and down.
"Good girl," Ranma said. Then he put a finger up to his lips and gave the dog a mischievous wink. "Remember, it's our little secret."
Shirokuro let out a sing-songyawoo.
Ranma chuckled softly as he rose to his feet, giving Shirokuro one last head rub before he headed back for the door and looked back to give Shirokuro a little wave.
"Keep up the good work watchin' the house 'til I get back, girl. See ya soon."
Shirokuro barked, her tail still speedily thwacking against the floor long after the door had shut behind Ranma, and he was gone.
DECEMBER 3rd 2002
Something was up with Shirokuro.
Even after Ryoga had finished with his bath and gone to bed, sleeping past eleven in the morning with Shirokuro snoozing away down by his feet, her lethargy never seemed to let up even after they were well into the afternoon.
Ryoga was able to take her for a short walk after breakfast, but could tell that her heart wasn't nearly as in it as it usually was when they would explore the neighbourhood together, a skip in her steps.
It was probably nothing to worry about. Ryoga had to remind himself that Shirokuro was getting older now, so she simply didn't have the energy that she used to. Besides, it wasn't like he had much motivation himself at the moment. He was perfectly fine to retreat back indoors and snuggle with his pet under a blanket, watching movies and old family videos.
But then her behaviour got even more strange.
She would clean herself almost constantly. The constant lapping of her tongue became a consistent background noise, the new soundtrack to Ryoga's life. It was starting to drive him just a little bit crazy.
She was equally as restless about bathroom breaks. Several times in an hour, Shirokuro would get up and let herself out through the doggy door to the backyard. Maybe she wouldn't need to relieve herself quite so often if she didn't drink so much. When Ryoga had first come home back in early November and stayed for five days, he had changed Shirokuro's water jug three times. She would always be good to ration herself a bit while home alone, and would eat and drink more if someone was home to change out her water and kibble containers. But Ryoga hadn't even been home a full twenty-four hours and he had already changed the jugtwice.
He considered taking away her water dish for a bit. Her kibble had remained almost entirely untouched since Ryoga arrived. She must have filled herself with so much water, she wasn't hungry for it. But that wouldn't do; she needed to eat, and stop overhydrating herself. He felt bad taking away her water, but told himself he would only do it for an hour to see if it encouraged her to eat.
But it was no use. All Shirokuro did instead of lapping at her water bowl was lap at herself instead, then head back outside, over and over and over again. Eventually Ryoga admitted defeat, and put the water bowl back in place, after giving the jug yet another refill.
Ryoga decided to watch her from the back door on what felt like the fiftieth time she went outside. He watched as she paced around the yard, sniffing at the ground. She squatted down in one spot, but only for a few seconds before she seemed to change her mind and pace around again.
Fingers drumming anxiously on the doorframe as he watched his move aimlessly about the backyard, Ryoga's mind raced.
What could this be? Shirokuro couldn't possibly bepregnantagain, could she? That could be arealproblem if that was the case. She was too old to be carrying puppies by now!
But the last time Ryoga had seen his pet acting like this was when she was in the early stages of her first pregnancy. The fatigue, the lack of appetite, and all that cleaning of her nether regions…
The pieces were adding up a little too easily, and Ryoga didn't like it one bit.
If Shirokuro truly was pregnant again, then it was going to be quite a strain for her, at her age. Ryoga would need to stay home with her, to make sure she would have a safe birth. The poor girl had given birth to her first litter all by herself, but Ryoga wouldn't let that happen this time. He had to ensure that Shirokuro was comfortable and relaxed when she brought these puppies into the world. He had to be here in case there were any complications with the delivery.
Shirokuro wasn't even showing yet, which meant she must be pretty early along in her pregnancy. The timeline added up, too, since she had been behaving perfectly normal the last time he was here, and she could have very easily gone into heat and been impregnated while he was at—
Just then, a heavy thought came to Ryoga, and he clutched tightly to the doorframe as his shoulders sank low.
It looked like he wouldn't be able to go back to the Tendo Dojo any time soon, after all.
MARCH 2000
The front door of the Hibiki residence opened up, and Shirokuro dutifully bolted to the doorway to greet her visitor.
"Down, girl." Ranma said under his breath, carefully moving Shirokuro's front paws off of his chest so he could get through the doorway.
He moved around with much less hesitation than he had during his first visit, moving through the rooms as though on auto-pilot.
First, he checked on Shirokuro's food and water, giving each container a top-up. Next, he went into the kitchen. It wasn't in nearly as sorry a state as he had found it in two months ago. The only food item that Mrs. Hibiki had left out was a bowl of sesame crackers, which were dreadfully stale but thankfully gave off no pungent aromas. Ranma dumped them into the trash bin, changed out the bag, but otherwise the kitchen didn't require the same deep cleaning as before.
Next, he headed upstairs to Ryoga's room. There was only one new note in the stack of letters on Ryoga's bed, dated last month. Ranma did not bother to read more than the date in the corner before he put it back into the pile, and left the room.
Back on the main floor, Ranma went over to a mounted peg on the wall where Shirokuro's leash and collar were hung. The jingling of the leash was enough to get Shirokuro dancing excitedly around Ranma's legs, which made applying the collar and leash a tad difficult.
Then they were out the door, and walking down the street toward the nearby park. A few neighbours walked past as they walked, greeting Ranma with a polite good morning that Ranma returned quietly.
As they were nearing the park, an elderly couple walking by looked at Ranma curiously. "Ah, did the Hibikis hire a dog walker?" the old man asked.
"Uh, no," Ranma said, "I just do it for free."
"That's good of you," the old woman said, "I'm sure this little lady appreciates it. Don't you, Shirokuro?"
Shirokuro woofed.
The couple both chuckled warmly, then looked back to Ranma. "Well, you two take care now."
"Yeah, thanks. You too."
The couple walked off, and Ranma stood in place for a while afterward, watching their retreating backs as they made their way down the road, and then rounded the corner, out of sight.
Ranma let out a long sigh, then continued onward.
They reached the park, and Ranma found a bench by the fountain in the centre of the park grounds and took a seat. He unclipped the leash from Shirokuro's collar, and she took off in a dead sprint to chase the birds congregating around the edge of the fountain, who took off frantically when the large mound of black-and-white fur barrelled towards them, barking her head off.
Ranma leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and let out another weary sigh.
After Shirokuro had her fill of antagonising the poor birds, she trotted back to Ranma looking incredibly pleased with herself. She leapt up onto the bench next to Ranma and dropped her head in his lap, tail swishing happily where it hung off of the bench seat. Ranma idly stroked at her neck. His listless, distracted administrations were clearly not good enough for Shirokuro, who squirmed around to get further onto his lap. She pushed her snout into his arm, and Ranma tried to give the pets a bit more enthusiasm.
"Sorry," Ranma murmured, "I was gonna come a lot sooner, but…"
He trailed off, and for a while the only sound was of the trickling water in the park fountain.
"...Had a lot goin' on lately," Ranma went on, "Uuchan and Natsu got married yesterday. Had a big party at the dojo. I've got a whole buncha hungover people crashin' at my house right now. Most of 'em were still fast asleep when I left. I pre-made enough breakfast ahead of time to feed a small army, so that Akane doesn't give 'em food poisoning on top of the alcohol poisoning. I was almost not gonna come today, but, Akane said she had it covered. Think she's excited about gettin' to be the one to fuss over everyoneelse, for a change…"
Ranma went quiet again as a young woman ran by in a jogging outfit, waiting until she had gone out of earshot before he continued.
"I think this is the first chance I've had to properly sit down since yesterday. I was up at dawn gettin' everythin' ready, cleanin' the house top to bottom, gettin' extra beds set up, decoratin' the dojo. And it wasn't even 'cause I was Ukyo's best man, either. Think I woulda been doin' all of that, anyway. I get restless if I'm not doin' somethin', y'know? It was good. All I do lately is feel helpless, so…it was nice to not feel like that. At least for a little while."
Shirokuro let out a shivery little sigh. Ranma patted her back.
"It wound up bein' a pretty great night. Think Akane and I were the only ones not drinkin' our faces off. Not that we're really big drinkers, anyway, but…it felt a little bit like we were missin' out. I mean, I had acouple. Akane kept tellin' me it was fine, that I should have some fun, but…I wanted to make sure I stayed present. Just in case, y'know? It's fine. Don't care for the taste of it, anyway…"
Ranma continued to gently stroke his hand down Shirokuro's back as he looked up at sky, perfect blue and not a cloud in sight. It's the warmest day they'd had in weeks, the harsh chill of late winter finally behind them.
It was all a little bit too ironic.
"Y'know somethin'? For more than half of the day yesterday, what with all the runnin' around I was doin' gettin' things ready for the ceremony, and all the craziness of the reception afterward…I wasn't thinkin' about Akane's diagnosis."
Shirokuro was breathing slowly and steadily beneath his hand, which had stilled on her back. She wasn't trying to demand the pets to continue. She must have fallen asleep.
"...I feel bad about that, now."
DECEMBER 3rd 2002
Ryoga was at a loss.
Shirokuro was looking more and more uncomfortable as the hours went by. She wasn't restlessly cleaning herself or drinking in excess as much as she had earlier in the day, but she looked weary and in a constant state of clear discomfort.
Ryoga prepared a hot water bottle and laid it on her dog bed where she was spending all of her time, her head resting on her front paws. She wasn't sleeping, just glumly looking off at nothing. He draped a blanket over her, and stayed at her side gently stroking at her forehead until her eyes slipped closed and she fell into a deep sleep.
Breathing a small sigh of relief, Ryoga got up and went over to sit on the couch, watching her from across the room. Hopefully she could get a good hour or two of rest, and feel a little bit better afterward. Ryoga turned on the television and kept the volume low as he flicked through the programs trying to find something to watch.
Not even half an hour later, Shirokuro woke up and groggily disentangled herself from the blanket on top of her and made her way out of the room. Ryoga got up to follow her, but came to a stop when she did, in the middle of the hallway. Suddenly, Shirokuro's back lurched and she made a horrible gagging sound, and then what little food she had managed to eat and watery bile splattered out onto the floor.
"Oh. Oh,no," Ryoga said fretfully, and rushed to his poor pet's side. "It's alright, girl. It's okay."
After a few more gags, and coughing up a bit more bile, Shirokuro settled. She walked past her pile of sick and towards the back door, shoving through the doggy door to the backyard. Ryoga hurried into the kitchen for supplies to clean up Shirokuro's mess, making quick work of the puddle of bile and expanded kibble before he darted to the back door.
Shirokuro was in a squat in the middle of the yard, shivering with strain. He could hear her yelping with pain through the door.
Ryoga flung open the back door and ran over to Shirokuro, his heart leaping in panic at her distressed whimpers.
He tried to rub at her back, but Shirokuro moved away from his touch, walking back toward the house. Ryoga watched her go, beside himself with powerlessness. He looked down to the ground, and his stomach constricted in dread.
In the remnants of the melting snow that still clung to the blades of grass, were droplets of blood.
NOVEMBER 2000
Shirokuro was snoozing next to the radiator when there was a telltaleclunkfrom the deadbolt turning in the front door. Her head jolted up, ears perked. Then, there was the sound of the door opening, keys jingling, and Shirokuo leapt to her feet and hurried over to the front entrance where Ranma was already shutting the door behind him to keep out the chill.
What weariness there had been in his face eight months prior had only been amplified in the time he had been away, but Shirokuro paid that no mind, just happy to have some company again at last.
Ranma kicked off his shoes and pulled off his coat, and then began his usual rounds. Food and water for Shirokuro, then check on the state of the kitchen.
It was in an even worse state than when he had come the very first time. The culprit was found quickly. Ranma stood at the kitchen counter, scowling down at the rancid egg salad sandwiches left untouched on a plate with the usual handwritten note next to them.
The mouldy bread and rotten eggs were dumped into the trash, and after a quick exorcism of the perishables in the fridge that were borderline hazardous materials, the kitchen's trash bag was changed out for a fresh one. The counters were wiped down and the floors swept and mopped with hot water and bleach, not so much because the floors themselves needed it, but just an attempt to cancel out the lingering odour of rotten eggs.
That done, Ranma left the kitchen, reset the booby trap at the kitchen door, and went upstairs to Ryoga's room. He flipped right to the end of the stack of papers still in its usual spot on the right pillow. Looked like Mr. Hibiki had been home in June, and Mrs. Hibiki left the latest note in the pile back in early September. Ranma set the papers back, and then sat down on the edge of Ryoga's bed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.
Shirokuro walked into the bedroom and rested her chin on Ranma's knee, blinking up at him. Ranma's arms felt leaden, but he managed to bring up a hand to rest it on top of Shirokuro's head.
"I'm late again," Ranma murmured, "Sorry."
Shirokuro just kept looking up at him, tail quietly swishing back and forth across the carpet.
"Lots to catch you up on," Ranma continued, "Kasumi moved back home in April. We all finally got to meet her husband. He's a pretty nice guy, but his Japanese still needs some work. And we met the twins, of course. They had their first birthday back in September. Kasumi's got a pretty small apartment, so we had a party for them at our place instead."
Ranma let out a strange huff, something between a scoff and a laugh, and shook his head.
"It's a good thing the twins won't remember a minute of it," Ranma muttered, "Coulda cut the tension in the air with a plastic spoon."
He flopped down onto his back on the bed, his arms splayed out. Shirokuro jumped up onto the bed and curled up at Ranma's side, laying her head on Ranma's stomach.
"She doesn't want to be angry with Kasumi," Ranma said quietly as he stared up at the ceiling. "Not really. But…she's never exactly been able to conceal her emotions. And it's not likeI'mleading by example myself. I ain't any better at hidin' how I feel, either. And…seein' just how twisted up inside she is, especially when she looks at those kids, I just…"
Ranma closed his eyes. There was a crease in his brow that never seemed to go away these days.
"Just knowin' that there's…there's nothin' I cando, I just—" Ranma's voice broke and he scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration, "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore. I feel like I'm just…stuck. Like I'm trapped behind some thick wall of glass, and I'm bangin' my fists against it, I'm screaming my lungs out and…and it won't budge. It won't crack. All I can do is watch her from the other side of it."
Shirokuro shuffled around in the bed, adjusting herself so that her head was closer to Ranma's. Ranma opened his eyes, watching as she laid over top of one of his stretched out arms. Then she exhaled softly and her eyes fluttered slowly closed. Ranma went back to watching the ceiling.
"I don't know when I'll get a chance to visit again," Ranma said, "I feel guilty enough as it is, even bein' here right now. I don't like bein' away from her for too long, even if all my hoverin' around just annoys her most of the time."
Ranma went quiet for a moment. Shirokuro yawned. He didn't take it personally.
"I can't remember the last time I got a full night of sleep," Ranma went on, "I just stay up most nights and…watch her. Terrified. Just…just holdin' my breath, waitin' for her to open her eyes again…"
The arm pinned under Shirokuro's head was starting to go numb. He could feel the pins-and-needles sensation starting in his fingertips.
Ranma's eyelids felt heavy. He let them slip closed again.
Just a few minutes more, he told himself. Then he would go back home…
…back home to…
When Ranma's eyes fluttered open again, the room was dark. He bolted upright, which had Shirokuro, snoozing against his side, also leaping up with a start.
Shit.
"Shit, shit…"
He had fallen asleep.
Shit.
"Shit, shit,shit…"
Ranma scrambled out of bed and looked around frantically, spotting a digital clock on the dresser. The green numbers glowing in the darkness showed that it was past nine in the evening.
He had slept for an entirefour fucking hours.
It's the most sleep he could remember getting in a while.
"Fuck, shit,fuck—"Ranma spat out, hurrying out of the room. "Gotta get home. Damn it, so fuckin'stupid—"
He took the steps two at a time and yanked on his coat while stepping into his shoes at the same time. Shirokuro sat by the door expectantly, and when Ranma looked at her she looked at her leash hanging from its peg on the wall, and then back to Ranma.
"Not this time, girl."
Shirokuro stood up excitedly as Ranma moved closer to the door, and Ranma let out an exasperated sigh as Shirokuro bumped her head into his leg.
"Not tonight." Ranma said firmly, "Sit down."
Shirokuro obeyed, sitting back on her haunches and looking up at Ranma curiously. Ranma's hand paused on the doorknob, and he looked down at the dog with an apologetic, torn expression.
"Sorry," he said, "I…I'll be back when I can."
And with that, Ranma opened the door and stepped out into the brisk November night. Shirokuro watched the door close with a finality behind him, and she sat there for a while afterward before she eventually went back into the living room and curled up next to the radiator. It wasn't quite as nice as sleeping next to her friend, but it would have to do, until the next time he came to visit.
But, unbeknownst to Ranma or to Shirokuro back then, there would be no next time.
