What does your heart say now

"Now that we have touched, now that we have kissed. Now that its come to this. Is it the same, or has something changed. Now that we have let our guards down. I just want to know, what does your heart say now." Enter, Saotome Kiyomi. She might be related to Ranma, and she certainly looks the part, but no one's really sure. Could she ever find peace with the Saotomes? OC-centric!

Chapter 1 – Life's messy

8-8

Life isn't fair. No matter how many times she hears those words, she can't help but snort derisively. Life isn't fair.

She was top of her class, competing for a top high school. She was going to be a doctor—the first in the family. She was going to be an independent woman, who chooses her man—not the other way around.

Instead, she finds herself wearing a simple house dress and an apron, now a high school dropout, and getting up a five every morning to prepare breakfast and get everyone else's day started on the right foot. She goes about her early morning, silent as a ghost so she doesn't wake anyone. The scent of soup and rice fills the air as she beats the egg batter. She'd already added a little sugar, knowing that he loves sweet eggrolls.

There's a calendar behind her, hanging on the wall beside the fridge. The page on display has September 1987 in bold letters on top, with the first six days already crossed off. There's a big red mark circling the twenty-fourth with the kanji for 'birthday girl' written big and bold. Not that the redhead whipping the batter seems to notice.

She's too busy planning her day, her week. She has an appointment at the pediatrician's, and she has that part-time job she finally landed—it's the only place that allows her to bring her now three-month-old son.

She snorts, her hand stopping as she shakes her head. Her son. Not even sixteen yet, and she had to give up her life. Well, she muses, her hand blurring once again as she continues whipping the eggs into a fluffy and airy mixture, it's not as if Jiro asked for this.

The Chishu household slowly awakens. A blue-haired teenager finds himself in the tiny sitting room, blazing through a kata, with a little bundle in the corner and out of the way. Little blue eyes study the funny dance for a moment, before deciding his foot is far more entertaining—he grabs it, shoving his big toe in his mouth.

"Jiro-chan, what have I said about sticking your foot in your mouth?" the redhead asks, too amused for her own good. Her face and her sky blue eyes light up as she scoops the baby out of the tussle of blankets he wrapped himself up into.

"Brrrrriiiiii!" Jiro belts out, his face lighting up in recognition. Seeing him so full of life, so full of laughter, she can't help but beam as well. Life isn't fair, but she wouldn't trade her loved ones for all the gold in the world.

"Is that so?" she asks, making a funny face. Little Jiro lets loose a cackle that brightens her whole world. "I see, I see. So tell me, what does daddy have to say about that?"

Jiro peers over his mommy's shoulder at the room's other occupant. The blue-haired teenager feels their gaze on him, so he stops his kata. His eyes drink in the pair of them. The redhead's bright, sky blue eyes are lit up, her lips curling upwards to show how at peace she is. And Jiro—with his icy blue eyes that remind him so much of his mother—lets loose an 'unn!' to remind him they're awaiting his response.

"I say you two are the most beautiful gifts I've been given," he says, his voice thick with emotion.

8-8

The redhead presses the stop button, already walking to the door to get off the bus. Once the vehicle pulls to the side of the road, and the door opens, she strolls out—her baby strapped to her chest and bobbing with her every step.

She walks down the street, her face a blank mask as she enters the cemetery. Her eyes don't wander, her feet knowing the way as she strolls through the rows upon rows of headstones. Until at last she strolls down the cobblestone path, down to a grave marked: Chishu Amaranthe, January 8th, 1958 to July 1st, 1987.

The redhead kneels, her eyes blank and out of focus. She just sits there, unmoving. Even with little Jiro wiggling and writhing like a pig in a blanket, she barely seems to notice.

A single word forms and is herded to the tip of her tongue, but it never takes that final step into the world.

Only the breeze dares speak, though its gentle lullaby goes unnoticed.

8-8

"Ah, Chishu-san, right on time," Ono Tofu greets the redhead as she walks into his practice. He's wearing the same dark grey men's kimono he wore the last time they met—she assumes it's his self-appointed uniform.

"I cannot thank you enough for this chance, Ono-sensei," she says, smiling bright as the sun and bowing low to him.

"Not at all." He bows as well, motioning for her to come in. "You'll be my secretary. Your job will be answering all calls, maintaining my appointments, creating receipts for all my patients and accepting payments, as well as processing those and all invoices into a bookkeeping program and paying my suppliers. I work by appointment for the most part, though I have a few patients that come in out of the blue."

He goes on explaining that all patients are planned in for twenty minutes, but marked and billed for a half hour—though he curiously doesn't explain why, and she doesn't ask. She, therefore, needs to plan in no more than two patients per hour, and how to charge them for the consultation or treatments—which she'll need to mark and price according to a system she's both unfamiliar with and unsure of.

Still, she tries to remember everything she can, offering some tea while he's busy explaining things.

"I think the first thing we should do, however, is to make a copy of your ID and fill in the proper employee's and tax forms," Ono-sensei says, opening the highest drawer of the filing cabinet. He carefully goes over everything with her, and she signs 'Saotome Kiyomi'.

"Hmm?" he noises, wondering at the discrepancy. "Chishu-san, I think you signed the wrong name."

"Keitaro-kun and I aren't married, so I'm to fill in my maiden name, right?" she wonders, her brow knitted in confusion.

"I see. I apologize, I simply assumed…" he trails off, studying the baby snoozing against her ample chest. He doesn't seem to have taken anything from his mother—he can only guess that means he looks just like his father. "Alright. I'm afraid I'm a bit backed up on my invoice payments. Could you please check the mail and organize all outstanding bills for me?"

"Of course."

8-8

On the other side of Furinkan, Keitaro is just arriving for his first day at his new high school. He's wearing his dark blue uniform, buttoned up, and blending into the background as if nothing is the matter. The large clock tower—that he just can't make sense out of, but figures he isn't meant to—shows it's ten past eight. It's early enough that the schoolyard is all but empty, save a few early birds like himself.

One foot in front of the other, he presents himself to the office, apologizing for the intrusion.

"Ah, Chishu-kun," the secretary greets him, her eyes lighting up in recognition. She's the one that helped him with the enrolment process as well. "Come, this way."

She leads him down a nondescript hallway, yammering on about this or that. She strikes him as the friendly sort, so he doesn't mind too much. "You'll be in class 1C. It's quite the rowdy group, but I'm sure you'll be fine. Your homeroom teacher is Maeda-sensei, so it's a good thing you're early. She tends to be almost overly strict on latecomers."

They stop just outside a door marked 1C, and she turns to him. For the first time he notices she's carrying a manila envelope, a rather thick one at that. "These are your schedule, your homework assignments, and application forms for electives. The school store will have all the books you'll need. Your booklist is in there as well." She hands him the envelope, bowing. When he takes it, she dashes down the hall, as if she expects there'll be some emergency needing her immediate attention—he isn't really sure what to make of that.

Still, life goes on. He lets loose a weary sigh, opening the door and entering the classroom. A woman is already inside, peering at him through thick glasses. "Chishu-kun, I presume," she drones.

"Yes. Forgive me for enrolling at such an odd time. We've only just returned to Furinkan," he says, bowing low to her.

"I see," she murmurs, her eyes softening somewhat. "Well," she shrugs it off, "worse things have happened. You'll be sitting to the back on the left. And don't you dare become a troublemaker! I have enough of them in this class already!" she warns, staring him down as if he's already proven himself untrustworthy.

"I wouldn't dare, Maeda-sensei," he assures her, bowing low and moving towards his seat.

8-8

Kiyomi fidgets in her seat as she goes through all the invoices. She's already entered all new bills into the bookkeeping program, and she prepared the checks for Ono-sensei to sign so all outstanding bills can be paid. As the fourth patient arrives, she welcomes them, offering tea while they wait—per the norm, they turn her down.

So all Kiyomi can do is go back to fidgeting. She's almost positive Keitaro left his bento on the table at home. That means he's there, on his first day, without a thing to eat. And they aren't so well off that they can afford for him to buy lunch out of the blue. That means he's going to end up going without lunch, without eating all day. And that grates on her.

She decides she'd better rush home and try to catch him during his lunch break.

8-8

Keitaro stares dead ahead, facing his new classmates. Of course, they need to start the day with the new kid. "My name is Chishu Keitaro. My fiancée and—" all the girls whine and complain about 'the new cutie' already being taken. He clears his throat, coughing into his hand for good measure. "As I was saying, my fiancée and I recently moved back to Furinkan."

"What's her name?" one of the girls asks.

"Kiki-chan," he says, a smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you fo—"

"Ooh! What's she like?!"

"Yeah! And have you gone all the way?!"

"What kind of question is that, hentai!"

Keitaro groans, rubbing his forehead. He already sees what the secretary meant—these people are insufferable. "I would ask that you never refer to Kiki-chan in such terms," Keitaro announces, his tone unbending and his eyes suddenly harder than steel. "I will not tolerate anyone disrespecting her."

"Is. That. Understood?" The silence that follows is all-consuming. No one blinks, few dare breathe. His battle aura drowns out every thought in their heads, and his face seems bathed in shadows—as if a demon possessed him. No matter that he doesn't so much as twitch.

Without warning, the oppressive air dissipates—as if the illusion was dispelled, leaving no trace it was there to begin with. Keitaro bows, moving back to his seat and calmly sitting down. He takes out a notebook and a pencil, clearly ready for class to begin.

"Oh great, another martial artist," some guy mutters. "What's Saotome gonna do about this one?"

The name ticks Keitaro's eyebrow higher, but he shrugs and figures Saotome is a common surname—no point in worrying about it.

8-8

Class goes on and on. Homeroom ends up being mind-numbingly dull, and the maths teacher is out sick, so they end up doing self-study for the second and third period. Keitaro seems to be the only one paying attention to his books, though. Everyone else is too busy chattering about the new kid, and what 'Kuno' will have to say about a new martial artist, and two girls keep pestering a raven-haired girl about her missing fiancé.

"Seriously, Akane. What's it going to take to keep Ranma in school?" one of them asks.

"Yeah, he's been out sick so often. Not to mention the constant challenges that make him miss classes even when he's here," the other jumps in.

"I still say he's faking it!" Akane belts out, muttering under her breath about her cooking not being 'that bad'. Keitaro can't really make sense of it, so he chooses to focus on his homework instead—one of the guys was willing to borrow him the maths book.

8-8

"Seriously, though," Yuka continues, eyeing the new kid. She sees how focused he is, how he seems to actually be making headway, ploughing through the problems one at a time. "What's with him?"

"I dunno," Sayuri mutters, sighing dejectedly. "I just wish the cute ones could stay single long enough to give me a chance."

Akane snorts, wondering what everyone's fascination is with relationships. She has one that was foisted on her—and it isn't all that good. Or at all, if she's honest. "The way I see it, if he's focused on his books he won't care about challenging anyone," she mutters, shaking her head in disgust. "Life's been crazy enough around here."

"Point," Yuka agrees, sighing.

"I kinda like it," Sayuri disagrees. "It keeps things interesting."

"That's not always a good thing," Yuka counters. "I mean. Every time someone new comes to school, chaos fo—"

"Don't jinx it," Akane and Sayuri cut her off in stereo.

8-8

Kiyomi can't believe her luck! Some Tendo woman comes calling, something about bringing back a book she borrowed, and suddenly the practice is closed for the morning! Sure, Ono-sensei was dancing around with a skeleton when he announced it—she isn't too sure about that—but the fact is she can leave early without asking for time off on her first day!

So, of course, she rushes straight home, sees to little Jiro's lunch, and grabs her forgetful Kei-chan's bento on the way out the door. She has to hurry a little, but she should make it to school for noon.

She finds the Furinkan High easily enough, so she rushes to the office to ask where she can find Chishu Keitaro, the new student. The secretary lights up at seeing her and Jiro, already leading the way and peppering her with a million and one questions—she can't say she even understands half of them, so she just follows along.

The thing that stands out, is that she keeps referring to her as 'Saotome-kun'. She isn't sure what to make of that, but the woman seems nice enough.

Just as they're walking down one hall or another, the bell rings and students start piling out of their classes—no doubt intending to eat their lunch anywhere but their classrooms. For some reason, everyone's eyes are on her.

So much so, that it's starting to make her uncomfortable.

"Airen! You take Shampoo on date, yes?" some purple-haired girl in a bright blue cheongsam calls out, carrying what looks like take-out.

Kiyomi sidesteps her, tripping her and continues on her way like nothing's the matter. She does shake her head in bemusement, but she's lived in Furinkan before—nothing to see here.

"Pig-tailed girl!"

Oh, crap, Kiyomi mutely complains. She wears her hair braided this one time to make sure Jiro can't pluck her into early baldness, and this is what she gets. She sees some kendo-outfit-wearing moron with a wooden bokken dashing for her, his eyes seeing only her. That is, until he gets closer, and sees Jiro strapped to her chest.

"Uh… I… that… you…" His brain is obviously scrambled, so she simply walks past him. "SA-O-TO-ME~EEEEEEEE! You cur! I shall smite thee when next we meet!"

Kiyomi sighs, shaking her head. There's something about living in a big city like Tokyo that seems to addle the simple-minded. Though, to be fair, Furinkan seems to have the highest concentration she's ever encountered.

8-8

Akane, Yuka, and Sayuri are just getting ready to leave the class together when the door slides open. Satoko-san, the school secretary, enters motioning someone in behind her. Ranma, of course. That boy probably got into another fight, and got another concussion or something—she keeps warning him he needs to have Tofu-sensei look into that.

Only… Ranma's wearing a women's business suit. Well, that's not normal. Nor is the fluffy looking bag at his side, or the subtle makeup… or the bundle strapped to his chest. Akane sighs, shaking her head as she makes her way over to him.

"What happened this time?" she demands, fire in her tone. Ranma just stares at her, confused. He blinks, tilting his head to one side.

"Ranchan?" Ukyou comes running, concerned. "What happened? Why are you dressed like that?"

"Uhh…" Ranma manages, narrow his eyes and staring at the pair of them. "I'm looking for… Chishu Keitaro? Is he here?"

"I knew he'd end up being a challenger!" Sayuri belts out, grinning. "Come on, Akane-chan. Show him the new guy!"

"Nevermind, I see him," Ranma waves them off without a care, strolling past them and to the back of the class. "Hey, Kei-chan, you forgot your bento."

Akane and Ukyou share a look. 'Kei-chan'?

"Kiki-chan! And you brought Jiro-chan!" Keitaro rushes to Ranma, taking him into his arms…

Akane stares, her jaw hanging low. Ranma is… he's… huh?!

8-8

"I'm so sorry, Kiki. I must have forgotten," Keitaro apologizes, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"It's fine, really," Kiyomi assures him, smiling to show she doesn't mind. "I was hoping to join you for lunch anyway. So this works out perfectly."

"Is that so," he murmurs, grinning. He makes to take Jiro out of the little pouch, holding him carefully to his chest. "What do you think, little man? Does mommy have a great idea or what?"

"Ga!" Jiro agrees, beaming at finally being out of that contraption. He loves being so close to his mommy, but he can't see much in there. Other than her boobie, of course, but she won't take it out to feed him! How rude!

"Can't argue with that," Keitaro agrees, offering Kiyomi his elbow to escort her. "So how was work?"

"First days are always rough. But Ono-sensei is really nice, if obviously from Furinkan." He chuckles at her deadpanning her way through that last part. He didn't think it'd be this bad, but so far she's been right—these people are pretty out there.

8-8

Akane stares. Stares. STARES. What in the hell is going on this time? Not only is Ranma in his girl-form. Not only is he wearing a flattering business suit—and that's grating on Akane's sense of pride, seeing how much better Ranma pulls it off. Not only is he here to see some new guy.

All of that is weird enough in and of itself—well, other than picking a fight with a new guy… that's par for the course. No, it's that they hugged, so they obviously don't plan on fighting. That Ranma has a baby with him—where the heck did he get did he get a baby?! It's that the new guy calls him by the same name he referred to his fiancée during his introduction. It's how Ranma brought a bento, wanting to have lunch together.

Just how bad will this concussion end up being? And since when does Ranma call Tofu-sensei by his family name?

Before Akane can ask a single question, the happy little family slips past her and through the door.

All the youngest Tendo can do is blink.

"Ranchan! Wait up!"

8-8

Kiyomi and Keitaro make it outside, looking around for a nice spot in the shade—hope springs eternal, as they say. As luck would have it, there's a nice shady spot up on this little hill. They make a beeline for it, claiming it as their own.

Kiyomi takes her time unpacking the bento, fishing out two pairs of chopsticks for them. She grabs the first eggroll, offering it to him. He doesn't even think to fight her, grinning and opening his mouth to let her feed him.

They sit, side by side, with Keitaro holding the squirming Jiro in his lap. He ends up having to cross his legs to give the sprat a little wiggle room so they can enjoy their meal together. Jiro doesn't seem to mind, patting his daddy's tummy over and over and cackling at the funny faces beaming down at him.

Kiyomi, for her part, is enjoying whatever time she can get with her boys. Especially Kei-kun. They've been so busy lately—the move, dealing with the funeral, dealing with Jiro around the clock—that they've come to cherish whatever time together they can manage.

So even though they both look a bit rough—Jiro still wakes up every three hours during the night for a warm meal—they're more than happy to just be together for a spell.

Movement catches Keitaro's eye. He looks over, finding one of his new classmates walking over with purpose in her stride. He isn't sure what to make of that, or of her.

"Hey, you guys mind if I join you?" the girl… well, they assume that's a girl, given the subtle breasts. But she is wearing a boy's school uniform. Then again, this is Furinkan. Who knows, or cares, what that's about.

"Depends, Miss…?" Kiyomi asks, confused.

8-8

"Depends, Miss…?" Ranchan asks, confused.

Ukyou sighs, shaking her head in dismay. Yeah, this looks like a concussion again. Still, the last time didn't come complete with a male fiancé or a baby, so best to play along for now. "Just want to get to know the new guy, is all. Something wrong with that?"

Ranchan and Chishu share a look. They both shrug, finding no real fault with her request. So Ukyou takes a seat opposite them. "I'm Kuonji Ukyou, by the way," she offers, unwrapping her bento—she wasn't in the mood to lug with her grill today, and she's pretty glad for it.

"Oh, please forgive my poor manners," Ranchan says, blushing from embarrassment. "I'm Chishu Kiyomi. Kei-kun you've already met, of course. And this little ball of energy is Jiro-chan. Isn't that right, Jiji?" Ranchan makes a funny face, teasing the cutest little laugh from the baby. Ukyou can't help but gush over the cuteness overload as the little boy tumbles from Chishu to Ranchan—though she takes careful note of how both of them reach to grab him, so he doesn't hurt himself.

"Pleased to meet you both. So tell me, how long have you been in town?" Ukyou continues, wondering when she'll find a hole in the personas before her.

"Not long," Chishu answers, a dark cloud looming over him for some reason. There's something painful he's been through. And given Ranchan makes the same face, she guesses it's mutual. "Kiki grew up around here, so we decided here is as good a place as any to make a new start."

"I see."

The little boy starts patting Ranchan's breasts—Ukyou has to fight not to get jealous at her fiancé's figure, and not for the first time—obviously wanting something.

"Aw, come on, Jiji. You just barely ate," Ranchan complains, but the boy keeps patting and patting her breasts, harder and harder. "Alright, alright."

Like nothing's the matter, Ranchan unbuttons his jacket, takes off the baby pouch, unbuttons his shirt, and pops out a breast, and lets the little boy latch on like his life depends on it.

Ukyou stares, her brain on tilt as she tries—and fails—to make sense of this.

"Staring is kinda rude," Ranchan complains, snapping Ukyou out of it. She turns, blushing.

"This… umm… you…"

"What? Never seen a baby having lunch before?" Ranchan teases, a grin on his face that makes Ukyou's mind melt. It's not the same smile. Not at all the same smile. She knows her Ranchan like no other, she knows his facial expressions, his every smile, how every facet of his mind works…

This isn't her Ranchan. No way in hell.

"Uh… Sorry if this is weird, but… the name Saotome Ranma mean anything to you?"

8-8

"Uh… Sorry if this is weird, but… the name Saotome Ranma mean anything to you?" Kuonji asks, blushing furiously. Kiyomi and Keitaro share a look, confused.

"Can't say that it does," Kei-kun answers, shrugging. "Why? I remind you of him, or something?"

"Ooh, my family's from around here. It could be she knows one of my cousins, or something," Kiyomi argues, carefully scooping up Jiro and holding him properly so he doesn't expose her more than needed.

"Your… your fa… your family?" Kuonji stutters out, making the pair a bit suspicious.

"Well, yeah," Kiyomi agrees. "My maiden name is Saotome, after all. But I haven't answered to it in years."

"…" Kuonji works her mouth over and over, but nothing comes out.

"So anyway, Kei-kun. I need to go grocery shopping after this. Is there anything you can think of? I mean, I have what we need for dinner, but we're running a bit low on rice and chicken broth."

"Hmm? You sure you don't want to wait on me? I mean, you've got Jiji with you, you know."

8-8

Ukyou stares as the pair of them keeps going back and forth, talking about mundane things like ingredients and what they're having for dinner. It rattles her to no end. And seeing a baby—Ukyou can only guess he's about three or four months old—nursing, and obviously getting the milk he so desires, certainly isn't helping.

But alas, the time comes for them to get back to class. Ukyou has one last thing to say before she dashes off. "Hey, Ranchan? Maybe you should come after school. I'm pretty sure Akane-chan will want you to meet someone. Family of yours, I should think."

Without waiting for a response, Ukyou leaves them sitting there. She heads back to their classroom, cornering Akane the second she lays eyes on the girl. "That isn't Ranchan."

"What?" Akane's face loses all colour. She'd missed lunch looking everywhere for Ranma.

"I'm telling you. That isn't Ranchan. She calls herself Chishu Kiyomi. She only recently moved to Furinkan, though she lived here before. And when I left, she was nursing her three or four month old son. That isn't Ranchan."

"Maybe it's the mirror clone?" Akane wonders, but it doesn't feel quite right.

"She wasn't flirty. And she doesn't even know who Ranchan is. She thinks Saotome Ranma might be a cousin of hers, though she didn't sound very sure of it." Ukyou sounds sure of herself, and even Akane has to admit that the okonomiyaki chef knows Ranma pretty well.

"That…" Akane doesn't know what to make of it, at all. But she needs to know what's going on.

"I asked her to come back after school, that you'd want her to meet someone. Dunno if she will, but…"

"Yeah…" Akane feels a migraine coming on. Life just got weird again. You'd think she'd have gotten used to it by now.

8-8

Trudging along, Akane steals furtive glances at Keitaro and Ran… Kiyomi. She isn't sure what to make of any of this, but she certainly hopes things will make sense eventually.

She is, however, glad that the pair of them agreed to come for a meet and greet. Akane is struck over and over by how naturally this Kiyomi acts, and how she and Keitaro-kun act towards each other and towards little Jiro.

They stroll along, the drab grey surroundings doing nothing to distract Akane as she goes. Interestingly, Ukyou decided this—whatever this is—is worth losing a few hours of business over. She can't make any more sense of any of it than Akane can, it seems. Then again, Ranma seems to attract chaos.

They're about a block away when Jiro starts getting fussy. Kiyomi decides he's just tired, so Keitaro-kun hauls him out of the pouch and lays him on his arm so he's lying on his tummy. His little legs keep kicking and he keeps whining, though. Nothing seems to be calming him down.

PRRRRRRT!

Akane flushes, her eyes wide with surprise. Jiro just farted. But not an ordinary fart. It sounded wet, and there's definitely the scent of a dirty diaper hanging in the air.

"Oh, oh, oh. Aren't you glad you got that out?" Keitaro-kun teases, rubbing Jiro's little back. "We aren't far, are we?"

"Uh uh," Akane noises, shaking her head almost violently.

"You have an extra change of clothes in the bag?" Once again, Akane is struck by how easy-going they are with it all. As if this is the most natural thing in the world. Intellectually, Akane knows it would be after a few months, but… she still can't disassociate Ranma and Kiyomi… and seeing Ranma talking and acting like an experienced mother is throwing her all kinds of curveballs.

8-8

Keitaro isn't really sure what to make of his new classmates, but he knows most people their age don't have a lot of experience with babies. He certainly didn't, not until Jiro was born. Still, he can't quite shake the feeling that they're confusing his Kiki-chan with someone else.

Kiyomi, for her part, is pretty mellow about it all. She doesn't remember much from before her accident five years ago, but she figures it doesn't matter. She had her mother and Kei-kun to tend to her every need, so she's done her best not to linger on the what-ifs. She won't lie and say she isn't curious, though.

They eventually make it onto a quiet street, with what looks like a martial arts dojo—the sign announces it as the Tendo Dojo of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts. The name doesn't mean much to her, so she shrugs and is already digging into the baby bag for wipes, a diaper, and the powder she'll need. She hopes his clothes are still clean, so she doesn't dig out a change just yet.

The second they get inside, Akane points them in the direction of the bathroom. She and Kei-kun make their way there, finding a cupboard that's on or about the right height for a changing table. "Is mommy's baby ready for the snow?" Kiyomi asks, making a face to tease a smile out of Jiro.

8-8

Akane, meanwhile, rushes into the family sitting room, already calling out for Auntie Saotome, Uncle Saotome, and—most especially—Ranma himself. Auntie comes rushing in from the kitchen, still wearing an apron.

"Akane-chan, what's the matter?" she asks, her short, auburn hair getting combed out of the way with her fingers. Her face in pinched with worry about whatever has Akane shouting like that.

"Where's Ranma?"

"Why, he's upstairs laying down, of course. I was just making him some soup to help his aching stomach," she explains, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "What's wrong, sweetie. You look like you've seen a ghost!"

As if on cue, daddy and uncle Saotome come in from off the porch, no doubt summoned by the shouting.

"I met someone today. A boy named Chishu Keitaro and his fiancée Chishu Kiyomi… but… well, Kiyomi looks exactly like Ranma's cursed form. And I mean EXACTLY!"

"Chishu… Chishu…" Uncle Saotome mutters over and over. "Hmm. Could be the Chishu family from Sapporo."

Daddy nods sagely, crossing his arms.

"They here to challenge the dojo?" Uncle asks, missing the point entirely.

"You're not listening!" Akane belts out. "This girl could pass for Ranma's twin sister!"

Uncle and Auntie Saotome share a look, but they mostly just look confused. "Ranma doesn't have a sister," Uncle says, sounding sure of himself. "I'd know if I had a daughter."

"Hmm," Auntie noises, tapping her chin in thought.

Light footsteps echo through the hall. Auntie and Uncle peer ahead, wondering just what they'll see.

The boy comes first, carrying what they assume is a baby bag. He can't be older than sixteen—kids are starting younger and younger these days. Still, Uncle recognizes the family traits easily enough—he'd had a few run-ins with Chishus before. His easy, measured steps telegraphs that this boy is without a doubt a martial artist—a decent one, to boot.

When they get to the entrance of the sitting room, the boy bows and moves out of the way rev…

They didn't know what to make of Akane-chan's claims, but… she's right. This girl looks eerily like Ranma's girl-form. Nodoka feels as if she's looking into a magic mirror, peering into the past to see her younger self. It pulls at her heartstrings in a way that 'Tendo Ranko' never could—she was too much a tomboy.

But this one? This Kiyomi is… a complete picture. The measured, and slightly effeminate, gait hints at her martial prowess. The way she carefully holds the baby in her arms, bouncing him back and forth to tease an infectious laughter out of him.

If it weren't for the lack of recognition in her eyes, Nodoka would find herself questioning if this isn't her daughter. After all, she's re-watched those home videos of herself with Ranma-chan as a baby—other than the boy's hair, it'd be a perfect match.

"Uncle Saotome, Auntie Saotome. Please meet Chishu Keitaro, Kiyomi, and their son Jiro," Akane does the introductions, her awe and wonder obvious in her tone.

8-8

"Uncle Saotome, Auntie Saotome. Please meet Chishu Keitaro, Kiyomi, and their son Jiro," Tendo-san does the introduction, though neither Kei-kun nor Kiyomi can make sense of the awe in her tone.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Kiyomi says, bobbing her head. No one minds, knowing how hard it is to bow with a baby in your arms. "If you don't mind me asking, are we related somehow?"

The Saotomes share a look, questions in their eyes. "We're… not really sure, Chishu-san," Saotome-san admits, wonder in her eyes.

"Okay," Kiyomi says, shrugging. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, though she hasn't gained all that much. "And you must be Mister Tendo?"

"Ah," the man in a brown gi noises, nodding dumbly. For some reason, he's staring at Kiyomi and Jiro—she's been getting a lot of that lately.

Another comes into the room, also wearing an apron. If Kiyomi didn't know any better, she'd swear it was Tendo-san's older sister—too young to be her mother, though she does have a maternal air about her.

"Why hello there," the woman gushes, beaming at their guests. "I'm Tendo Kasumi, Akane's eldest sister."

"We figured as much, Tendo-san," Kei-kun announces. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He bows low, but Kiyomi just nods again—she's beaming at the older teen, so no one doubts she's happy to meet her.

"Could we offer you some tea? Or would you like to stay for dinner? It wouldn't be any trouble, I assure you," Kasumi-san offers, her beaming smile disarming the Chishus before they could even hope to get defensive.

"Tea would be nice," Kei-kun agrees. "But we don't like keeping Jiro out too late."

"Of course," Kasumi-san agrees easily. "Please, why don't you make yourselves at home while I get everyone some tea, then."

8-8

Ranma was having one of those days. After nearly dying at Akane's hand—her cooking is the most lethal substance known to man!—he'd spent the night worshipping at the porcelain throne. As if that wasn't enough, she had the nerve to get mad at him for overreacting! To the point that she brained him after breakfast!

He feels so sick he has to skip a meal, and SHE'S upset about it! He just doesn't have any luck with that girl.

His stomach only started settling an hour or two ago, so he asked his mom for some soup—something light to test if he can keep it down. But instead of getting the soup, his mother comes in gushing about this or that, demanding he come join them in the family sitting room.

Groaning, but unwilling to deny his mother much of anything, he gets out of bed, dragging himself out of their shared room and downstairs.

He hears everyone in the family sitting room, talking about this or that—nothing he cares to identify, though. Ucchan's voice rings out, followed by her singing laughter—he always did like hearing her laugh.

If she's here during business hours, he knows something major's up. Why she's laughing is a complete mystery, though.

"I'm serious," an unfamiliar voice calls out. "Kiki mauled the poor bastard right in front of his girlfriend. Probably saved his life, too."

"I'll bet!" Ucchan belts out, laughing again. "I wouldn't have been any different!"

Not as serious as he first feared, then. He makes his way into family sitting room, finding everyone—even the reclusive Nabiki—entertaining some guy and girl he's never met.

Seeing nothing worth getting his mother all riled up, he makes his way over to Akane, plopping down beside her.

And coming face to face with… something. Himself. Or rather, herself. What the heck!

Ranma blinks. Ha! The mirror clone!

"Okay, seriously. Staring is rude," the mirror clone drones, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "What is it with you guys and staring at me, anyway?"

"Uhh…" Ranma noises, trying to make sense of this. Not a flirt, doesn't know who he is, but still a perfect doppelganger of his girl-form. "Okay, I'm coming up blank here."

"Saotome Ranma, these are Chishu Keitaro, his fiancée Kiyomi, and their son Jiro," mom does the introductions. "Isn't she just the spitting image of me at that age?"

8-8

"Isn't she just the spitting image of me at that age?" Saotome-san gushes over Kiyomi once again. All the girl can do is roll her eyes and smile. She's fairly certain there's some kind of family connection, but no one seems to know much about it.

Still, they don't mind Jiji tumbling around and they've been nothing if not hospitable. She can overlook a few harmless quirks.

"Ahhh… aah." The newcomer manages. Obviously a cat got his tongue.

Jiji comes their way again, slapping the tatami mats with every move and making more noise than headway. His eyes are all lit up and he seems excited about something. His owlish gaze never leaves hers, even as he beams. She scoops him up, kissing his brow.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Jiji?" she asks, beaming every bit as brightly. Instead of his usual gurgled response, he plops his head against her chest, grabbing her shirt and closing his eyes.

"Aww, he must be getting tired," Saotome-san coos, her gaze softening and her hand over her heart. "Isn't he the most adorable little thing?"

Knowing he'll just end up falling asleep there, Kiyomi untangles him and hoists him just a little higher, so it'll be easier to hold him. Liking this new setup, Jiji grabs her shirt again, gently tugging as he pulls himself back to look at her.

She kisses her little man, smoothing his hair to gently coax him to lay down again. He doesn't fight it for long, closing his eyes and laying his head against her.

"SAOTOME~EEEEEEE!"

Kiyomi doesn't know why she recognizes the voice, but she certainly isn't happy with how loud they're being. Let alone how whoever it is scares little Jiji, who starts fussing and crying his little heart out.

Some kendo gi wearing idiot comes jumping over the wall and into the back yard, pointing his stick towards them and belting out some crap she doesn't care to identify.

"Kei. Take him." The words come out cold, harsh as the winter's frost. Though she carefully offers her baby to Keitaro, her glare never wavers from the death-wish-having idiot.

"I hope no one here likes that guy," Keitaro teases, keeping his tone light and airy as he tries shushing their baby.

"Nope. She's cool," Kuonji coos, resting her chin on her hand and eagerly watching the scene unfold.

Kiyomi, for her part, struts outside, her fists balled at her sides and her crosshairs centred on the little shit in front of her. "I don't know what your problem is," she bites out, her gaze hardening further. "But anyone. That makes my baby cry. Dies."

Completely unaware of the danger, Kuno grips his bokken with both hands and takes a ready stance. "My fire-haired goddess, sure you under—"

He doesn't see the punch coming, but he certainly feels it as the wind is knocked out of him. She wasn't even close enough for his bokken to reach her! The kick behind his knee is just as sudden, but harsher, cracking something he's sure isn't meant to crack. The next thing he knows, she has him by the throat, pulling him up to her height, their noses practically touching.

He gazes into icy cold eyes, seeing scenes of his life flashing before him.

For a long moment, she does nothing but glare.

"Oi! Kuno! I dunno what you think I did this time!" Saotome shouts, sounding amused. "But I don't think you're ready to tangle with momma bear!"

Part of Kuno's brain understands what is going on. That this person that must be his fated beloved is either going to have her way, or have his head.

"If I release you," Kiyomi drones, enjoying the look of sheer panic in the boy's eyes, "you will leave and you will never bother me or mine again." She squeezes his throat so hard that his whole face turns red. "Is. That. Clear."

He nods so fast she can't imagine he won't get seasick from it.

Nodding in agreement, she releases him, letting him fall onto his knees. She turns and saunters back over to the porch, stepping up and moving back around the low table, gracefully sitting beside Keitaro once again.

"Please forgive my rudeness," Kiyomi says, her words too formal, her tone too proper. No one has to guess if she's still furious. "But I believe we should be heading home. Jiro will start getting hungry soon. And I need to work in the morning."

"Of course," Kasumi-san and Saotome-san agree at the same time. Only Saotome-san continues. "But please, feel free to come visit any time. We're family after all."

8-8

Kasumi did her best to hurry everyone along. After all, they'd informed Furinkan High that Nabiki, Akane, and Ranma would be missing only the first period—that means they can't take their time here, no matter how Kasumi's heart begs her to.

They get off the bus at Imata Cemetery, and Kasumi once again finds herself ushering everyone along—it wouldn't do to miss mother's birthday, after all.

It's been a yearly tradition since her passing, nearly ten years ago. That, unfortunately, means that the pain and reverence has leeched away somewhat. So Akane and Ranma are openly arguing, even in a cemetery!

As much as she wishes to shush them, something catches her eye. A lone redhead with a blue-haired baby strapped to her chest. She kneels before a headstone, just up ahead. Unmoving. A statue almost.

Kasumi studies the young lady. She recognized her almost instantly, of course, but this isn't about that. She recognizes the look on her face—she'd worn it for years after mother's passing. A look that tells the eldest Tendo sister that this young lady's heart bleeds in her chest, but more than that, it tells her that feeling hurts too much.

She tries to reconcile the vivacious young lady she met just yesterday, with this morose and statuesque broken soul. She can't. It's as if they're two different people.

Though it is customary to allow visitors here to grieve in peace, something in Kasumi refuses to allow her to stand idly by.

Her feet lead her, her heart eggs her on. Even as her sense of propriety screams profanities in her ears, there's nothing that can be done now. The die is cast.

8-8

Kiyomi once again finds herself in the cemetery, kneeling before the same headstone. The sun had long since risen, and for some reason there're more people here—not that she cares to notice either fact.

As if this is all some sick joke, a group starts making their way towards her. She ignores them, though she finds herself hugging little Jiro closer to her—just in case.

"Kiyomi-chan?" a kindly voice calls out, but she doesn't care. If they know her name, they should respect her desire for privacy just now.

Especially now.

Her eyes try to trace the kanji, over and over, wondering when reading it will no longer hurt—no luck so far. She can't even manage the full name.

Someone kneels beside her, just not touching her. Kiyomi flicks her gaze to the person, a mute sign to go away. When she recognizes Tendo Kasumi, she sighs—this one isn't going anywhere.

Once again, her eyes trace the name before her. Chishu Am…

She can't. It's like sticking her hand in a flame—no matter her goal, survival instinct prevents her from going further, forces her to retreat.

"We lost our mother, too," Kasumi says, her voice laden down with a thousand heavy emotions. "The pain never truly goes away, but you grow strong enough to live with it. In time."

"Nn," the redhead noises, mostly to show she heard—whether she is listening remains to be seen. Without another word, Kiyomi makes to stand, heading out to work. Regret for not being able to say that one word lingers, growing with each step.

8-8

End Chapter 1

8-8

A/N: To be honest, I'm mostly writing this to shut my muse up! She's been bugging me for over five years with this story! Seriously!

I'm not too sure if this will be regularly updated, or if I'm going to make this as more than a 3-chapter fic. I leave it up to the reviews to see if this will become something more.