Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma 1/2. I am using the characters as inspiration for storytelling based on Rumiko Takahashi's series.
This is my first time posting on this site. I'm excited.
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The walk over to the cemetery had certainly been a quiet one. No demanding fiancées, pop-up thunderstorms, or a certain panty-loving old man had disturbed the Saotomes and Tendos, almost as if they all subconsciously understood what today was—the day Mrs. Tendo passed away. As Soun clasped his hands in prayer, Ranma stood somewhat aloof next to Genma, in his cursed form. He opted to wear darker clothing, replacing his traditional red Chinese shirt with all black long-sleeved funeral attire, but kept the same frog-pins. Amid Soun's praying, Ranma caught a glimpse of Akane's eyes as she bent down, laying her bouquet of carnations on her mother's grave.
What is that look? Is she crying?
Dummy, his inner monologue reprimanded. Her mother's passed away. That's horrible.
Once Kasumi had finished pouring water over the grave, Akane rose, eyes still transfixed on the cold stone, like the gravestone marker "Tendo" was not just grim kanji, but the eyes of a living, breathing person, almost like a tender conversation was being held. Ranma broke the silence first.
"So your mother…"
He paused. He didn't know what words to use. Still, his eyes never left the stony object Akane's were glued to.
Almost sensing his uneasiness, Akane gently acknowledged him.
"Uh huh. When I was very young…"
Now it was Akane's turn to be uneasy. Memories of her mother had already tormented her that night, waking up to a damp cheek and a wet pillow. The few more memories she had banged at the door of her mind, demanding an escape, a release, an acknowledgement that all of these things were, in fact, real. She allowed them to be.
"But I remember a lot about her," Akane spoke, her head rising, eyes staring into the distant blue in a cloudy Nerima sky, just above the gravestones. "She was such a wonderful mother…"
"Boy…"
Ranma didn't even realize the word even came out of his mouth. His eyes were fixed on the back of Akane's hair, the dark blue serving as a doleful contrast to her black mourning dress. He stood like that for a moment, his usually fast-paced mind suddenly growing cold and still, like he was sitting in a movie theater watching Akane's memories, enchanted. This mental image was quickly cut short when Nabiki turned around after her prayer.
"What about your mom, Ranma?"
He was taken aback by this slightly. "Who knows?" He said, taking off his cap nonchalantly.
"What do you mean, who knows?" This time it was Akane looking at him. Ranma's blue eyes narrowed towards his panda father.
"Do I even have one?" He interrogated Genma, with annoyance. His father began to sweat. He reached for his wooden writing post.
[It is time, at last, that I reveal the secret!]
Ranma maintained his dubious gaze. If he does something stupid, I'm gonna whoop Pop.
[I gave birth to you myself!]
Ranma's foot did not take long to connect with Genma's snout. He rubbed the heel of his pointed Chinese shoe sarcastically. "More likely she ran out on you."
Ranma had hardly noticed the three Tendo sisters quietly murmuring amongst themselves. "Who can blame her?" Nabiki said curtly, under her breath. "More likely that he ran out on her." Kasumi hypothesized, her worried hand starting to cover her mouth. Ranma's acute senses caught the Tendo sisters' gossip, but he quickly discarded their words as he continued prodding his foot into Genma.
When they had arrived back at the Tendo house, Ranma quickly dissociated from the rest of the group, going straight to the guest room. He stared into the open window, cross-legged and still in his funeral attire. The mid-afternoon Nerima sunlight beams highlighted the stray dust particles in the room, almost like they were dancing around Ranma's narrowed field of view. He looked out into the neighborhood, adorned with red and light blue roofs, chimneys, almost acting as guards for the flat-topped city buildings in the distance. His mind moved with a thousand questions and feelings, all unfamiliar to him. Nothing like going to a graveyard to start my day right, he grumbled inwardly. I need to take a walk. Quickly changing into his traditional drawstring black pants and red Chinese shirt, Ranma slid out the window and made his escape.
Ranma had found out that his best thoughts always came while he was moving. Every daring or downright crazy plan he hatched would always be mid-combat, facing an active, living, and breathing opponent. He never was one for simply sitting still. Those damn desks at school would be the end of him, one day. It was no wonder that he was far from the star student Akane was in his classes—it was almost like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. His ambition, his love for overcoming a challenge, facing an opponent—all of that went out the door when he was held fast in purgatory known as high school. It was purely out of habit, then, that his body situated himself walking on the thin fence posts lining the canal on the way to school. So often had he made this same journey with Akane, but now, her absence served to bring out the absence of her own mother on the day.
Was she crying? What did I see in her eyes? I know her ma's been gone a while. I don't know how long grief lasts. Why did she never mention it before to me?
What about my ma'?
As his thoughts now drifted towards his mother, he stopped on the gridded fence post, turning his gaze to the rushing canal water. The hushed tones from Nabiki and Kasumi hadn't escaped him. He cursed his excellent combat abilities for allowing him to pick up on even the faintest of sounds, including their conversation. Nabiki's words had a sharp edge to them. Ranma knew that he had asked for it, but his remark made to his father was more rhetorical than anything. Almost like this was a sparring battle between him and Genma. For some reason, Nabiki's words echoed as an insecurity in his mind, brooding.
Who can blame her? I think I can a little bit. Where was she, all my damn life? I'm engaged to this macho, uncu—no, to Akane, but where has any mother been this whole time? You know, maybe it's better that I don't even know I have a mom. If she turns up, then I'm gonna wanna yell at her and ask her alla' this. That's too much. That's not fair at all.
But what would Akane think?
Suddenly, his legs felt light as feathers as they searched for any ground below them, his arms flailing desperately. Ranma had been completely taken by surprise, nearly losing his even-footed balance on the rail. This thought had sucker punched him, as if it had memorized a moxibustion chart and pressured him in all the spots at once. He involuntarily winced. He walked that fence to school every day, knowing every point where it would occasionally wobble and wriggle. All of that muscle memory had been eviscerated in that half-second Akane's name was mentioned, with a mental image of her decorating his mind. She was still in her funeral dress, that look in her eyes of both grief and resolution battling quietly pierced Ranma's matching gaze. He found himself drawn to this new side Akane had shown him. It wasn't the belligerent tomboy he loved to wind up, or the jealous fiancée when Ukyo or Shampoo—or, God forbid, Kodachi—glomped onto him. It wasn't even the cute, genuine, or funny girl he got glimpses of that really would put his foot in his mouth, blushing like a bright red rose. No, it was a new side that had been kept quiet and hidden until today, a side of her still living in the wake of her mother's very real death. His macho chick, uncute tomboy fiancée who sometimes was kinda cute had trusted him enough to let him into a little foretaste of her childhood, and how her mother had really shaped who Akane was today. Ranma wasn't about to take that for granted.
If I had a shot at seein' my ma' 'gain, I would take that chance with everything I have. It's the least I could do for Akane. I owe it to her.
Ranma continued his stroll, stepping more confidently yet contemplatively as he reached this resolution. That still did not bar any insecurities from prying their way into his mind.
All I ever knew was Pop and me traveling alone, all the time. Maybe he had a good reason to be doing that. She's gotta be some kinda weirdo anyway. After all, how can you marry a freak like Pop otherwise? Maybe it's for the best. But still…to deny 'Kane the chance of having an aunt, after growing up without a mom…
Ranma yelped when he realized what that last thought meant—marriage to Akane. He tried shooing the engagement away from his mind by about any means necessary. He hadn't realized the creaking of the current fence he was on as it began to fall, and him with it. He looked down for a half-second before instantly jumping, being pulled back to reality. As he jumped onto the next fence post, he noticed the warning sign he had been too mentally preoccupied to heed, saying, "Danger: Unstable. Do not stand on."
"Whew. That could've been bad." His eyes widened as he noticed the view of the canal…getting closer? He glanced below him, seeing another one of those poorly timed signs. "Also unstable" it read. Ranma hadn't had a chance to react before the all too familiar gbloosh of cold water surrounded him, activating his curse. The pigtailed red-head, miffed, cursed his luck as he felt the cold, wet concrete as he soaked in the canal.
"Young lady, are you all right?" a deeper, feminine voice called out.
Ranma looked up, dazed, seeing the shadow of a middle-aged woman gazing down on him. He sensed a genuine care in her voice. Still, though, who the hell is out here at this time?
"Here, grab hold of this." Ranma could more clearly make out the woman as she offered forward to him a wrapped rectangular object of some sort. She was dressed in a lavender kimono, with a brief pale pastel blue floral pattern covering its left side, accompanied by a dark bamboo-green sash around her midsection. Her hair was a deep maroon color, short with curls dangling in front of her forehead. He quickly banished any self-pity for his curse in his mind and readily accepted her help.
"Oh…thanks." Grabbing hold, he hadn't realized how much more dazed he was to have been forcefully taken out from his mental menagerie into the real world. Crap, I probably sounded ungrateful there. Whatever.
Ranma began to scale the tile walls of the canal, thankful to whoever this considerate stranger may be. He hadn't anticipated what happened next, though. His reduced strength, even in his girl form, was still able to suddenly swoop the woman from her perch on the sidewalk, sending her and Ranma both careening back towards the canal. After hearing a larger familiar splash, Ranma felt mortified, looking at the soaked woman.
"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Ranma pleaded in his high pitched voice, flailing his arms in the water. He could have been mistaken for a child learning how to swim. But what any passersby thought was the furthest thing from his mind.
"My, my! Aren't you the tomboy!" The woman replied, still bearing her gentle smile. She raised her pale hand to Ranma's sopping red head. "Let's act more like the little lady we are, shall we?" Her eyebrows were lifted and she still showed Ranma her smile, but her eyes were closed, giving a soft and tender expression to the unfortunate boy-girl. That look completely disarmed Ranma's panic, feeling a wave of tranquility flow throughout his body. He got a good glimpse of her face, almost feeling as though he was looking into a mirror of sorts, at something…familiar? He couldn't shake the feeling.
"Uh…sure." He sheepishly replied. The lady stood first, extending her hand to Ranma, helping him up. Her happy countenance was only magnified by the Nerima sunrays gently gleaming on their little accident scene. She started to walk away, down the canal.
"Well, I need to hurry on my way! Goodbye now!" She waved while continuing her path. Ranma watched her until she rounded a nearby corner, almost like he was frozen in that position.
Wow. What a nice lady.
