CHAPTER FIVE: 2004
Baths & Mealtimes
Ranma sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Huh?”
Sunlight was shimmering through the window illuminating the redhead’s tired features. Ranma yawned and stretched, rising from Akane’s old bed and gazing around. It took a moment for everything to slide into place. After last night’s big think, she found herself having to reconsider her entire mental picture of Ryoga Hibiki and herself and their friendly rivalry. She had lost count of the number of times she’d fooled Ryoga into thinking she was someone she wasn’t – in her girl form every single time. Was that because it was so easy? And what was it that made it such fun? If she hadn’t already known she was married to the guy, such questions wouldn’t have even occurred to her, but they were occurring now, at a volume and frequency she found disturbing.
Maybe it wasn’t right to do that to a guy. Maybe one day he’d just snapped, and slammed her up against a convenient wall, and... and... and they did what came natural... and he was being so nice just to make up for it all.
Don’t be an idiot, Ranma. Even Ryoga wouldn’t do that... unless you’d pushed him beyond the limits of human endurance, that is. But I wouldn’t do that. Right?
Some quiet, vaguely feminine voice added, and I wouldn’t have a baby with a man like that, either, but Ranma ignored it with the ease of lots and lots of practice.
She descended down the stairs to find Ryoga cooking breakfast. For a moment, she stared at him without speaking, watching him as he stood facing the stove, tossing the skillet’s contents. She watched him as though she could divine the past by observing him in everyday circumstance.
It was no use. He was just... Ryoga, her sometime-friend, sometime-rival. The fact that he was being domestic lent some puzzlement to the matter, but so far as she could tell, he was the same guy who’d run at her, screaming ‘Prepare to Die!’ on numerous occasions. He scarcely even looked older than before; and, in fact, it was impossible to tell he was any different even physically, from the back.
“How long are you going to stand there?” he inquired mildly, without turning.
“Until I’ve figured this out,” Ranma replied.
“Hmph. Then I’ll get you a blanket. They say it’s gonna be a cold winter.”
“Ha ha,” Ranma deadpanned, finally entering the kitchen. “Glad to see one of us has a sense of humor about this.”
“Plates?”
Ranma wordlessly removed two plates from the kitchen cabinet and handed them to Ryoga, who tossed some eggs onto each one.
“You’ll adapt, Ranma. You always do. Besides, you never know; you could wake up tomorrow and it’d all have come back to you.”
Ranma privately conceded that the latter could occur, but she still felt more than a little uneasy at the prospect. Suppose she did remember everything and it made her feel worse, not better? “Do you do most of the cooking around here?” she inquired, trying to get her mind off of what-ifs.
“Whoever gets up first does breakfast,” Ryoga replied. “That’s usually me. You usually do supper, because I get home late. I was wondering if you’d mind making dinner tonight.”
“We have it all worked out, huh?” Ranma sniped. Just because she’d had a big think and decided she was sorry for the way she’d treated Ryoga didn’t mean she was going to let him in on it. She sat at the table and slumped, leaning her head into her cupped hands.
“No sarcasm first thing in the morning,” Ryoga admonished as he set the scrambled eggs in front of her – once again sounding more like an older brother than anything else.
Ranma was taken aback by his playful tone. “Is this all some kind of joke to you?”
“Of course not! It’s just... well, wallowing isn’t going to get me anywhere, is it?” Or you, his pointed look seemed to say.
Ranma eyed him curiously. “Yeah, but...”
“This is just a temporary thing, Ranma.”
For the first time, it occurred to Ranma that Ryoga might be her easiest and best source of information. “Have I ever had... memory problems... before?”
Ryoga grinned as he seated himself across from her. “Well, no. But any other problem you can come up with, you’ve had ‘em,” he replied. “Okay, think back: weird Chinese curses, forests full of stupidly large creatures, demon gods... not to mention five fiancees...”
“Three,” Ranma corrected absently, popping a bit of egg into her mouth. “I think I know how many fiancees I have.”
“Five,” Ryoga countered, “and it’s ‘had’, Ranma.”
Ranma stared at him blankly. “Aw, crap!” She wasn’t even going to ask about demon gods.
Ryoga began laughing. Ranma did suppose that her shellshocked expression must be kind of funny, but she hit him across the back of the head anyway.
“Oww...”
“Your point being?” Ranma demanded.
“My point is that you’ve been through a lot, and you just... you’re resilient. You’ll handle this, like you do everything, and manage to keep it together through it all. It’s what I admire most about you.”
This was beginning to lapse into uncomfortable territory. “T-this isn’t half bad,” Ranma commented. “Where’d you learn to cook? Out there on the road all the time, doesn’t seem like you’d have time to learn how to make much.”
“Yeah, on the road I did okay... but I didn’t really learn to cook until Mom taught you and me together.” He glanced at her and reconsidered his statement. “Mrs. Saotome, Ranma, your mom.”
Ranma choked on a bit of egg and downed some tea before she could continue.
“But... the curse!”
“She was so happy to see you again that she had the family sword melted down
and made into your wedding jewelry.”
“She... but after saying she’d kill me, right?”
Ryoga sat across from her with a wry grin. “See, it’s not all bad news, is it?”
Ranma stared at him for a moment, having a flash of rare insight into how Ryoga must be feeling about all of this; but she shoved it aside to think about later as her joy threatened to overwhelm everything else. “My mother – she knows about all of this?”
“Yup. You should see how she dotes on Sachiko. It’s a shame.”
Ranma’s grin shone from across the table. “Aw, man, I gotta visit her! But what’ll I say!”
“It’s just Mom, Ranma! You’ll do fine.”
Ranma opened her mouth to retort, then paused. ‘Just mom’! Of course – she’s his mom, too. His mother-in-law.
My mother is Ryoga’s mother.
It was a weird thought.
Ryoga was watching the expressions flit across her face with undisguised delight. “It was great enough seeing the effects of your first reunion with her,” Ryoga commented, gesturing with a chopstick. “I guess you’re lucky, getting that feeling twice.”
Ranma grinned to herself, scarcely hearing him. It was one small, cherished dream coming true in the midst of all of these nightmares – but as consolation prizes went, it was pretty damned consoling.
Ryoga bolted the rest of his food. “I gotta go, or I’ll be late for work.” He shrugged a jacket around his shoulders. “Listen, the cell phone number is right here above the kitchen phone. If anything happens – if you remember anything, or if you get in any kind of trouble, just call, okay? I’ll keep it on all day.”
Ranma stared at him. “You’ve got a cell phone?”
“Who doesn’t?” Ryoga looked confused.
“Oh. Right, right. The new millenium, I keep forgetting.”
“We keep extra money for incidentals in the green jar on the kitchen counter,” Ryoga went on as he grabbed a briefcase that had seen better days. “Nabiki is supposed to come around two to drop off Sachiko. We’re almost out of formula and diapers – story of our lives! – so if you go out, pick some up, okay?”
Ranma forced her mind from playing movies of her reunion with her mother. “Money, jar. Nabiki, two o’clock. Formula. Diapers.”
“If you want me to pick up anything from the store, you just call the cell and let me know.”
“You’re worrying over nothing, Ryoga. I’m Ranma Saotome, ya know. I’ll be just fine for eight hours on my own.”
“I know, I know, I just...” Ryoga flashed her a small smile. “Nothing. You’re right, I’m worrying over nothing again.”
Again? Ranma’s puzzled frown diffused his smile so effectively that the redhead felt a small twinge of guilt. She supposed that she was constantly telling him to quit bugging her about the little things, to live a little. It seemed like the type of thing she’d... she’d tell Ryoga to do?
Man... this is waaaay too confusing!
“Ranma?”
“Mmm?”
“Uh...” He paused at the door, looking briefly like the guy she’d seen upon opening Akane’s bedroom door – lost again, far deeper in his own mazes than she’d ever seen him. “It’s nothing. I’ll see you later.”
Ranma jumped a little as the door closed behind him. She peered out the window, but Ryoga had already disappeared. It might be better if he did get lost. That way she could think about this whole thing for a little while, let it sink in and sort it out without any external pressure.
Except for the baby, of course.
Ranma sighed, glaring at the spot where he’d disappeared. “I know I’m his wife, but he ain’t got no right to go and... and try ta make me feel guilty about being all screwy like this...” She plopped on the couch, her pale blue robe loose around her.
Ranma gazed down at the pale blue robe in disgust. “Where’s my clothes?”
She wandered back into her old room, only to find it’d been turned into an office. “Nice.” For a little while she wandered around, pawing through their bills and correspondences, but nothing was very telling except the one at the very bottom.
Ranma-chan, it began, hope things are well with you and Ryoga and
the baby. Was in the forest in
Ranma watched her hands begin to shake. “Aw, crap,” she breathed. “He musta gone off on another training mission without me!” She paused. “’Cause I was gonna have the baby.” She searched the letters. “Where’s the one that says, ‘you’ve disappointed me forever, I’ll never speak to you again’!”
The redhead put the letters back into the drawer and closed it. The last thing she wanted to do was run into some early love letter between Ryoga and herself. Besides that, she suddenly remembered her original purpose. “Clothes.”
She exited the office and meandered up the stairs. Akane and Nabiki’s rooms were a no-go, of course. Akane obviously still used hers occasionally, and Nabiki’s room was now Sachiko’s room. That left Kasumi’s room and the old master bedroom that she remembered as Soun’s.
Peeking into Kasumi’s old room revealed another guest room. It was obvious that all of Kasumi’s personal items had been removed to... somewhere. All that was left was a made bed, some curtains, and a couple of pieces of furniture.
That left the master bedroom. Ranma climbed the second set of stairs for the first time. She didn’t recall being in Soun’s room before now.
The decor was... well, it was obvious to Ranma that she’d done it herself; for one thing, the room had been done boldly in red and gold, including the bed. A pair of ancient swords hung on the wall centered over their headboard, one crossing over the other. A small umbrella stand was in the far right corner of the room, and the right nightstand had a pair of workgloves on it.
That must be his side.
“Aw, mannnn,” Ranma drawled in sudden understanding. She moved to the left side of the bed and perched there, feeling a little sick to her stomach. “My side, his side. Well, there’s only one way to get a baby, Saotome Ranma.” She flinched. “Or is it Hibiki Ranma?”
Ranma opened her dresser drawers and was relieved to find a Chinese shirt, much smaller than her red one of old, but in a similar style. She weighed it in her hands, noting its heaviness. It was very well-made, and an attractive dark green.
She pulled out a pair of black pants – raw silk, and once again a little smaller and probably tighter than she was used to, but all in all, it was relatively close to the way she liked to dress. She was ready to give herself a good wash and face the day.
Ranma moved downstairs to the furo and turned on the hot water, watching it fall into the tub with a slow, sinking feeling. She’d put this off for far too long, but she was frightened of what she might find – afraid that she was stuck in her female form, but also worried that she wasn’t. Which was worse? She loved her male form, thought of it as her own body, thought of it as belonging to her. Somehow she’d never achieved that with her female form. After all, she’d grown into her male form all of her life, and, from her point of view, it had only been about a year since she’d had a female one, no matter what the rest of the universe said.
At the same time, imagining herself as Ryoga’s wife as a man was... disconcerting. Ranma knew what she hoped for, but both outcomes would make her uncomfortable.
Slowly and deliberately, she unwound her hair from its pigtail, drenched it in water and soaped it up. She washed herself meticulously but professionally, thinking carefully of other things. That had become her habit.
What did it mean that her mother and Pops knew about this, even approved? Akane had told her about her depressive mood, and how it had effected everybody, but it still didn’t quite parse to the redhead. What could she have done – what could Ryoga have done – to convince them that this was an okay idea?
It wasn’t like men never married men, never had sex with them. Ranma knew that. But not her. That was for perverts, as Akane called ‘em, weirdos. It made you less of a man, didn’t it? And Ranma certainly had enough femininity as it was.
But maybe that was the problem. Maybe her girl body gave her signals that told her to like Ryoga. Just chemistry. Even so... how could she have let her body overcome fifteen years of... of training?
It was training, right? Just like the martial kind. Walk like this, stand like that. Buy these things and not the other. Talk like so. As a girl, Ranma could and often did abandon all of those rules for a little while, and it was really liberating. She liked to be strong and together and macho and cool and a guy; and she enjoyed being pretty and nice and... and weak?... as a girl. You could talk about feelings as a girl, cry as a girl, eat ice cream as a girl. Even Akane let her do most of those things without calling her a pervert, so long as she was a girl at the time. Ranma liked the dicotomy, liked being able to be both, except when someone groped her or called her dumb.
Being stuck as a girl would be... would be miserable.
What about being stuck as a guy?
Ranma dumped the bucket of cool water over her head and blinked away the water. She’d never thought about it like that before. Of course, being normal again would have been great – amazing. But she would have lost something important.
For the first time, Ranma forced herself to tune in as she was washing her body. She was cold. She was cold more often as a girl, come to think of it. Her body was good-looking, she knew it because she had a guy’s brain. But it wasn’t like she was admiring some girl from far-off, this body was hers...
Ranma faced the mirror, standing up off of the washing bench and peering at herself. Not just some hot girl...
Me. That’s me.
Ranma turned slowly in front of the mirror, examining herself from every angle. She hadn’t let her body fall apart, that was for sure. Despite having had a kid not too long ago, everything was firm and tight in the right places. Even though she hadn’t worn a bra (except once or twice) in the entire year she remembered of being a girl part-time, she hadn’t begun to ‘sag’, contrary to Nabiki and Kasumi’s admonitions. She looked good.
Ryoga’s had this.
Ranma’s eyes widened in the mirror, and she flushed. She didn’t even remember it, but someone had his hands all over this body in the recent past. Suddenly, she felt shivery and uncomfortable and didn’t want to look at herself any more.
Ranma moved to the furo and turned off the tap. She stared at the hot water.
She was clean; maybe she didn’t even have to find out. If she didn’t know, there wouldn’t be any discomfort either way.
Slowly, she dipped one foot in, then submerged herself into the hot water, breaking for the surface and sputtering.
Ranma didn’t have to check. The differences couldn’t be numbered; some couldn’t be described. But it was always easy to tell, even without looking.
Ranma put her head in her hands and cried a little. This was okay, because she was a woman.
Ranma sighed as she exited the furo, drying herself off carefully and rumpling her hair. She saw a blowdryer in the cabinet while searching for a comb, but ignored it. Insead, she pulled the snarls out of her hair and braided it wet.
Throwing a towel around her body, Ranma moved upstairs to she and Ryoga’s bedroom again. For awhile, she sat on the bed, numb.
Well, of course the curse was locked. Why shouldn’t it be? Was it really viable to assume she’d somehow had a child without that? Certainly not. She’d be running from hot water like it was a live thing. Sachiko’s existence meant she was cursed.
Searching for a distraction, Ranma moved to the small bookcase on her side of the room, peering at the titles there: The Art of War, Sun Tze. If I Pay Thee Not In Gold, Piers Anthony. How to Run a Small Business from your Home, Reiko Ashikaze. Causality Loops and You, by Hans Pieters. The Lovers’ Annotated Kama Sutra...
Ranma found herself pulled to the last book against her will. She flipped open to the inside cover.
Congratulations, Ranma! I know you and Ryoga-kun are both... shy... so I thought this might help. – Nabiki
Ranma glanced around cautiously before turning to the first page and starting to read.
She was startled out of her examination of page one-hundred and twenty-three by the front door slamming. “Ranma!” a female voice called out.
Ranma slammed the book shut and tossed it on the bed, rushing into her clothing before scooting down the two flights of stairs to find Nabiki in the hallway, holding Sachiko. For a moment, she only had eyes for the small girl. Sachiko looked good, healthy – even cheerful. Ranma let out a relieved breath and turned her attention to the middle Tendo daughter.
Nabiki still looked much the same – only, she had cut her hair even shorter so that it framed her face. The cut was good, and looked expensive. She was wearing a clingy brown sweater of some fine material, and new blue jeans.
“What?” she said. “Is there spit-up on my angora?”
Ranma laughed. “Uh, no,” she assured her, taking the baby into her own arms carefully. Mine, drifted through her thoughts. “It’s just... you look a little different.”
“I like that shirt,” Nabiki said after a moment’s contemplation. “Good color for you.”
“Thanks. I like your sweater,” Ranma returned, bouncing the baby on her hip. Since this was too much like a conversation between two girls, she abruptly shifted the topic. “Uh, Ryoga told you?”
“Yup,” Nabiki returned, just as cool and collected as Ranma remembered her. “It’s too bad. This kind of weirdness hasn’t come to roost in awhile. So you think you’re sixteen, then.”
“Not so much,” Ranma replied, taken aback by the matter-of-fact way Nabiki was accepting this news. “It’s more like that’s the last thing I recall.”
“Bumping your head in the pond,” Nabiki supplied, moving to sit on the couch.
“Uh huh.”
“Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time.”
“What do you mean?” Ranma joined her on the sofa, shifting Sachiko so that the small girl was sitting on her knee. The baby was very quiet, her dark blue gaze shifting back and forth between to the two women as they spoke.
“Well... the first time you banged your head and believed yourself to be a girl, it took another knock to put you to rights.”
“Yeah,” Ranma said, having been told this story by Akane and the others before.
“After you got out of the pond the second time, Akane tried to make you act right by the same method she used the first time: hitting you, that is. Needless to say, it didn’t work.”
“She never mentioned that part,” Ranma said dryly.
“It isn’t a wonder,” Nabiki returned. “She felt very guilty about hitting an injured Ranma when she wasn’t even angry about anything. Anyway, she wondered if she hadn’t whacked you in the right spot or something, but she wasn’t going to hit you from every angle until it worked. She didn’t know what she’d done the first time, much less how to replicate it.”
“So?”
“So I’m guessing you fell or banged into something, and it landed in the right spot,” Nabiki said casually. “Last time, you didn’t remember the time you’d spent as a girl. I don’t know why this time should be any different.”
“Oh.”
Sachiko had apparently decided the conversation was over. “Mamamamamaaa...” she babbled.
“See, Sachiko knows her momma,” Nabiki replied, tickling the little girl playfully.
“That wasn’t ‘mama’,” Ranma snapped quickly. “She’s too small to know any words.”
“Well, that’s true,” Nabiki answered casually. “How many months is she again?”
“Eight and two weeks.” Ranma paused. “Hey!”
“Well, looks like there are some things that you do remember.”
The redhead looked down at Sachiko. “Ohmigosh.”
“What is it?”
“She is mine.”
“Ranma, she looks just like you. Was there ever any doubt?”
“I just... oh, man. I just didn’t really understand...” Ranma gazed at the small bundle in her arms with new wonder. How could it be that this thing had actually come out of her? It was beyond belief.
“Mamamamamaaa...” Sachiko continued, delighted by the attention it was getting her.
“Okay, sweetie, that’s enough,” Nabiki said reasonably.
“..mamamamamama...” Sachiko continued delightedly. She’d added a little clap to the mix: “ma” clap “ma” clap “ma”...
“Whookay,” Ranma said, bouncing the little girl on her knee. She swung the girl up into the air and back down, making Sachiko stop babbling to giggle.
“She’s had her lunch, but she’ll need a snack and some dinner a little later on,” Nabiki added tolerantly.
“Thanks Nabiki,” Ranma managed, still flying her daughter through the air. “I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. What are aunts for, anyway?”
“Maybe some free information?”
Nabiki laughed. “Ranma...” Her expression darkened as she caught the redhead’s eye. “You’re serious.” A small pause. “Well, of course you are. I did this once, so I suppose I can do it again.” She cleared her throat. “Ranma, I’m sorry I took such horrible advantage of you back in high school. I was having problems of my own, and I didn’t realize how rough it was on you, sometimes. But I never should have sold pictures of you, or my sister, to anyone.” She grinned. “How’s that?”
“Oh. Okay. Uh, that’s great.”
“Anyway, what did you want to know?”
“More about Ryoga. What really happened? I’m guessing you, of all people, are the one who can tell me the truth.”
Nabiki blushed. “Well, you’re right in saying that. I did spy on the two of you a lot.”
“So?”
“Well, let’s see. It started right after you woke up.”
“I thought I was catatonic when I first woke up.”
“Bit of an oxymoron, isn’t it? Anyway, you weren’t quite catatonic, Ranma.” Nabiki favored her with her old laconic expression. “When you first woke up, you seemed a little bit weirded out, but then you kissed Ryoga.”
“Akane never mentioned that.”
“Akane didn’t see it. Ryoga was the first one who saw you awake. He went into Akane’s room, where we’d put you up for the time being. You opened your eyes, saw him, and planted a big fat kiss on him right then and there.”
“Oh, geez.”
“Geez is right. It was really humorous to me, at the time. Ryoga struggled and flailed and made all kinds of noise. I snapped a couple of pictures, of course. But then, it was really strange. He sort of... gave in. Stopped moving around. I thought he’d passed out, or something. But when you broke for air, he looked all funny and more than a little confused. He walked right past me out the door and he didn’t come back to the dojo for weeks.” She shrugged.
Ranma shuddered, considering this. “Did you know what was wrong with me?”
“No. No one did. For awhile, I blamed Ryoga. He had to have done something to cause that kind of reaction. Unfortunately, he was as confused as I was, if not more. I guilt-tripped him, big time, until I think he really did believe that your condition was all his fault.”
“Well, it was, wasn’t it?” Ranma demanded. “I mean, he did knock me into the pond.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t even fighting with you more seriously than was usual for you two,” Nabiki supplied. “What he expected to happen and what did happen are two entirely different things.”
“I still don’t really understand. Why Ryoga?”
“I’m not sure, Ranma,” Nabiki replied. “Maybe the girl-curse just needed a guy your age to latch on to. Ryoga was always close to you, no matter how much he pretended to dislike you, and he was your age.” She chuckled throatily. “Come to think of it, consider the other boys up for grabs back then: Kuno... Mousse... Pantyhose...”
“Okay, you can stop there.”
Nabiki smiled. “Will do. You get the picture, anyway. Guess you needed a boy and Ryoga was around.”
Sachiko blew a raspberry at Nabiki.
“Sorry Sa-chan,” Nabiki intoned dramatically, “but it’s probably true.”
“Does she always do that?” Ranma wondered when the small girl made the sound again.
Nabiki shook her head. “Looks like Sachiko’s learned a new skill!” She chucked the small girl under her chin, making her giggle. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Listen, me and Kasumi were wondering if we could come over tonight after supper, maybe watch some movies, catch you up to date.”
“Uh, sure. That sounds like fun,” Ranma replied, bouncing Sachiko again, hoping it would help stop her blowing raspberries at Nabiki.
Sachiko paused suddenly, then let out a wailing cry.
“Oh, no! She bit her tongue!” Ranma stood up, swinging the small girl around in her arms. “It’s all right! It’s all right!”
Sachiko sniffled and gazed at her mother out of big, dark blue eyes.
“You’ve still got the touch, Ranma,” Nabiki praised her. “See you at, say, nine?”
“Sounds good.” Ranma sighed when Nabiki slid out the door.
“Very loyal to Daddy, aren’t you?”
“Gah,” said the baby, seemingly in reply.
Ranma found a small automatic baby swing in the closet and pulled it out to set Sachiko inside. Sachiko clapped her hands and burped in response. Ranma only hoped that meant she’d been in it before, and that she liked it.
“Now what?” Ranma said aloud.
Now, possibly, consider what to do for dinner. Ranma opened the fridge and gazed around. She could practically see the tumbleweed rolling from one empty end to the other. “Hn. Hey, kiddo. Wanna go shopping?”
Ranma had done her best to find the old shopping district, but it had been taken over by novelty and hobby shops. Inquiring around, she finally managed to locate something called a ‘superstore’. Peering inside revealed far more than just food.
“C’mon, Sachiko,” Ranma said needlessly, grabbing a cart and moving inside. She was almost certain she saw lettuce somewhere off to the right. She found enough leafy greens to feed all of Japan. “Superstore. What a dumb idea,” she decided, grabbing a head of cabbage and pushing the cart to the carrot aisle.
“Ranma!”
Ranma turned to face a woman in her twenties with one baby on her hip and a three or four year old at her side. She didn’t recognize the woman at all. “Hiii,” she managed with a strained smile.
“I thought you said you were never going to shop here again as long as you lived,” the woman accused.
Ranma gulped. “Yeah, well... you know.” She hoped the woman did.
It was Ranma’s lucky day. “Yes, it’s just so much more convenient. You just can’t pick up supper, a jumper for the kids, and a can of bug spray anyplace else, can you?”
Ranma had to admit that this was probably true.
“And how’s Sachiko, hmm?”
Sachiko couldn’t speak for herself yet, so Ranma had to assure her that, for all intents and purposes, Sachiko appeared to be doing quite well.
“I don’t know about Ki, here,” the woman went on, shifting the baby at her hip. “He’s been crying a lot lately, and I think he’s got diarrhea pretty bad.”
Ranma blinked, noting that the baby had a slightly red complexion and a dissatisfied expression. Still, she hadn’t expected to be treated to a list of Ki’s digestive complaints in the middle of the store in broad daylight. So far as she knew, people didn’t talk about diarrhea. “Uhhh...”
“I’ve been giving him lots of water to prevent the dehydration but... oh, you’re so knowledgable, Ranma. What do you think?”
“You should go see the doctor,” Ranma offered neutrally. “This can be very serious in babies.” She wasn’t really thinking much about it; she was wondering how soon and by what means she could escape having the rest of this conversation.
“You’re probably right. I’ll go see Tendo-san the moment she has time.”
“Tendo-san?”
The woman nodded. “Your oldest sister. Are you feeling all right, yourself, Ranma-chan?”
Ranma flushed. “Uhh... no, I’m a little under the weather, and I’m distracted. I’m wondering what I should make tonight.”
“Oh, make your stir-fry, it’s always so good,” the woman enthused.
Ranma nodded. “Thanks a lot.” She eased away with Sachiko, searching for some soy sauce.
Once Ranma got home, it was time to feed Sachiko her snack. Ranma had a bad feeling about all of this, so she donned an apron before setting to work.
It turned out to be a good idea. Sachiko seemed to think that throwing food was at least as fun as eating it, and making her eat was like trying to convince Shampoo to be patient or Kuno to be sane. Ranma resorted to making train noises, which did seem to work.
“Here comes the choo-choo!” Ranma announced. Someone has a camera, she thought tiredly. I know someone has a camera. “Here it comes!”
Sachiko opened her mouth, let in the foul-smelling applesauce stuff, and offered her mother a rare smile.
Ranma grinned back. “Okay, so we like that game? Then we are definitely playing that game. Here comes another one! Wiiiide goes the tunnel!”
It worked again. Sachiko giggled and clapped. She said something that sounded suspiciously like “’gain!” but Ranma was still convinced she was a little too young to be talking. It had to be her imagination.
“Choo choo!” Ranma announced. In about twenty more minutes, the baby food had disappeared.
That which wasn’t currently attached to the walls, anyway. Ranma sighed, began cleaning the floor with a wet rag.
She quickly learned her mistake when a big chunk of applesauce-stuff landed in her hair from above. A small giggle quickly followed.
No, no, clean the baby first
Once the baby and the kitchen looked decent, Ranma decided it was time to relax for a little while. She headed up to the bath, dragging Sachiko with her.
Ranma splashed the cold water over her own head as she held the baby.
Sachiko began to scream.
Uh oh. “Uhmmm... don’t cry like that, honey, there’s warm water right there!”
Ranma soaped the kid up rapidly, then herself. Rather than rinse again, she submerged herself and Sachiko quickly into the water.
Ranma leaned back against the ceramic tub with a sigh as her body stubbornly refused to revert back to male.
Sachiko, on the other hand, seemed to find the warm water soothing; she was asleep on Ranma’s shoulder after the first two or three minutes.
Ranma was in the middle of cooking when Ryoga opened the door.
“Hi,” he said, his voice strained.
“Bad day at work, honey?” she inquired waspishly.
“Uh, no, it’s just that –”
Another man came in after Ryoga. He wore glasses, and a very obvious rug. “Sorry for disturbing you!” he announced, removing his shoes and stepping out of the genkan.
“Oh! Guests!” Ranma turned rapidly back to the stir-fry, shifting it around in the pan. I’ll kill him, she thought. Ryoga, darling, you are dead
Author’s Notes:
To answer a particular question, no, Ranma-past and Ranma-present aren’t going to merge and make peace or anything nice and direct like that. Too simple.
It’s cool that a lot of people are already asking the right questions and pointing out inconsistencies. Sometimes those types of things are there on purpose, and sometimes by accident. Like a lot of my stories, this is going to have a weird, funky ending. Wait it out.
As far as flames go, bring ‘em on! If they can prompt these discussions, they can come visit me any day of the week. Glad everyone’s alive out there; keep reading, keep reviewing, and keep playing in the universe R. Takahashi has so generously created!
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