Disclaimer: Neither my friend nor I own Ranma ½.

Mr. Kobayashi, Jiro, and his pregnant wife are original characters though.

CONDOLENCES

Mr. Kobayashi was dead.

It happened during the night. He went peacefully, his son had said, in his sleep. But no matter how much Akane wanted those words to be comforting, she could only feel that eerily familiar coldness in her stomach, which felt as if it contained the emptiest kind of nothing and at the same time, the heaviest something.

She had wondered for the briefest of moments why this feeling seemed so familiar, and then guiltily remembered her mom. She had been really young then, but such strong feelings, no matter how much time passed, never truly perished. However, her youth had allowed her to suppress those feelings for so long that even when she thought of her mom and missed her and wanted to remember the sorrow, sometimes she just couldn't.

So this was what it felt like. Everything came rushing back at her with startling clarity.

Staring longingly at the worn out recliner on the front porch where Mr. Kobayashi used to spend so many of his lazy afternoons, Akane breathed in the familiar scent of old books and tobacco. The wind still carried this dead person's scent. Would it always smell like that from this spot across the street? Just as it always smelled like mom back at home?

Eyes slowly scanning the porch that now seemed too large, she wondered how Kasumi was doing. Was she thinking about their mother too? The older Tendo had been good friends with Mr. Kobayashi. They had traded books often and sometimes, Kasumi would stop by from a trip to the market and have tea with him. Akane spent many afternoons with him too, before Ranma and his whirlwind of chaos came to Nerima. Since then, she had been spending most of her time fighting with her fiancé and his fiancées. Now, she wished she had stopped by more often.

It was crazy really, how complacent people could become. Mr. Kobayashi was old and death was something he had probably been anticipating for awhile. Everyone else should have been waiting for it too. They should have been sending over pies and flowers and books. They should have been bringing over old records and dancing with him to jazz classics, just so he knew that he wasn't being forgotten. Because being forgotten, especially when one was still alive, was the worst thing that could happen to a person.

Nobody wants to be forgotten. Ranma had said that once. She couldn't agree more.

With one last look at the empty recliner- it looked so abandoned and hopeful, as if it were still waiting for someone to take a seat- Akane turned to walk back home. Tomorrow, she and the rest of her family were going to attend a funeral. She wondered if she had anything black in her closet.

Nabiki liked to eat ice cream in cones. The concentration required to keep one's hands and clothes clean took her mind off things.

Today, she ordered three scoops of chocolate. Three scoops of extra dangerous. Three scoops of extra messy.

She licked off a drop that had almost reached her finger and looked up, counting the colors of the umbrella overhead. Blue. Yellow. Red. Green.

She looked down again, watching the separate scoops slowly melting into each other. To her right, she could hear a young girl giggling at something her boyfriend said. The table beside them, the one that was right beside the small, rusty fence that separated the restaurant from the sidewalk, was empty.

We sat right there. She let herself sink into the memory.

She was sitting with Kasumi, waiting for Mr. Kobayashi to come back with their ice cream.

Where was Akane? Nabiki struggled to remember. Oh, right. Akane had been sick that day and had stayed home with Soun. She had cried when they left without her.

Kasumi, bored into silence, was staring at the small plants growing against the newly-painted fence.

Right. That fence used to be white.

It wasn't long before Mr. Kobayashi returned, carrying bowls of ice cream on a tray.

Little Nabiki sat up straighter, brown eyes widening with excitement. "Which one is mine?"

"This one right here," he replied, taking a bowl from the tray he was still holding and setting it down in front of the little girl. He took his seat and settled into a comfortable conversation with Kasumi. Nabiki was too busy with her treat.

"How is your father doing?"

Kasumi sighed, pushing her spoon into the puddle of strawberry syrup in her bowl. "He's not doing well. He won't speak to any of us. He won't even..." Kasumi choked, finally succumbing to the urge to sob. "He won't look us in the eye."

"Says we all got mum's eyes. They're brown too, see?" Nabiki stood on her chair and leaned towards Mr. Kobayashi, widening her eyes.

"Oh, I see, I see. Yes, they are, aren't they?" Mr. Kobayashi replied, amused. "They're a very pretty shade of brown, sweetheart."

"Mmhmm..." the little girl replied, leaning in closer.

With a very motherly kind of tenderness, a look that was strange on her child's face, Kasumi smiled at her sister, wiping away the tears that were quickly streaming down her face. "Sit down, Nabiki, or you'll fall."

Nabiki did as she was told and resumed eating her ice cream.

Kasumi inhaled, trying to regain her composure. "Thank you again for taking us out, Mr. Kobayashi."

"You know how fond I am of you girls. It's no problem. Jiro would've come but he had to go to school."

Kasumi bowed slightly, thanking him again. "We understand. He's already been a great help, especially with Akane."

In the afternoons, little Akane cried and screamed for her mom, not understanding that she wasn't coming back. The two of them used to spend afternoons throwing rocks into the pond. But mom was gone, and Akane wasn't used to ending her day without their little ritual.

It was Jiro who came now. He came over right after school, playing with Akane until sunset. He was the only one who could make her stop crying, telling her stupid little jokes while they threw rocks into the pond, sharing wisdom he claimed he acquired from all of sixteen years. But he was taller than her, so Akane believed every word he said.

A memory within a memory. Nabiki smirked. Interesting.

She shook her head, failing to remember the rest of that afternoon with Mr. Kobayashi. She stared up at the umbrella again.

Blue. Yellow. Red. Green.

Kasumi was in the kitchen, baking cookies. It was surreal, the way she was wearing such a brightly colored apron and bustling in the kitchen as if she hadn't a care in the world. If it weren't for the absence of the nonchalant smile, she would have seemed as normal as ever.

But she hadn't smiled since Nabiki had gotten off the phone that morning with that solemn frown on her face nobody had seen since she was a child and their mom had just passed away. Since then, all Kasumi could think about was how she would never, ever speak to her old friend again. Just a few days ago, she was discussing classical poetry with him. Just a few days ago, he was laughing that warm, crooked smile of his, alive as ever in his worn green jacket, that old thing he wouldn't wash for weeks because his wife, who had passed away years ago, had given it to him and he wanted to preserve its color for as long as he could.

Kasumi sighed, tears forming in her eyes. Sniffing lightly, she brushed them away with her sleeve and began taking the tray of cookies from the oven.

"Hey, Kasumi, are you all right?" Akane said from the entrance to the kitchen. She had been standing there long enough to witness her sister forcing down a sob.

Kasumi turned towards the younger girl, a strained smile on her face. "Yes, Akane. Just a little emotional… Mr. Kobayashi was a good friend." They shared a moment of solemn silence.

And then Akane whispered, "I know."

Kasumi set the tray on the kitchen counter and began transferring the cookies onto a plate. "Was anyone there when you stopped by?"

"No. I guess Jiro had… things to attend to."

"Oh, yes. I wouldn't have expected otherwise. That poor lad. He was very close to his father."

"Yeah, I know," Akane replied, taking a cookie. "It's too bad he didn't make it to the birth of his first grandson."

Kasumi sighed again, a tired sound. Biting into her cookie, Akane glanced at her sister and realized how suddenly Kasumi had had to grow up. She had been too young to accept so much responsibility, but she did anyway. She had been too young to take everything with a smile on her face, but she did anyway. She had been too young to play mother…

But she did it anyway, without so much as a sigh of frustration.

And now here she was, the strong and stable homemaker, baking cookies because death took away too much and she needed to just make something.

Still holding the warm cookie, Akane gave her sister a hug.

The long day was almost over. Akane rummaged around her closet, grimacing at how much color was in there. She felt guilty that she had such bright things to wear while somebody out there was too sad to be able to stand seeing anything but gray and black. That was what she felt like when it had happened to her, when she was the one who had to wake up to such a dark truth.

It had been surprisingly quiet, as if the world was being considerate and was allowing people a few moments to mourn.

There had been no visits from suitors and fiancées. That was probably because Ranma was out the entire day.

Akane wondered if he had done it on purpose. He had gone right after a very gloomy breakfast and didn't return until an equally gloomy dinner. Somehow, he and his father, who had remained a panda and spent the whole day playing a rather noiseless game of shogi with Soun, seemed to have sensed the need for quiet while death loomed over their heads.

Nabiki had gone out too, but for entirely different reasons. She couldn't stand the silence of the house. The solemnity and the mourning were unbearable even if she had never been close to the deceased and had only given him the occasional greeting. It was as if her mom had died all over again. She wouldn't admit it but Soun and her sisters knew that she missed her, now more than ever. They all did.

Finally pulling out a black blouse from the very bottom of her closet, Akane sat back on her heels. She re-folded the blouse on her lap and then stood up to place it, with an unexplained reverence, on her study table. She turned to her bed and stared at the white pillows, the yellow sheets and then down at her printed pajamas.

This was going to be difficult. She felt guilty for everything- for having so much at that moment while kind Mr. Kobayashi and Mom were dead and had only an eternal nothingness now.

She considered her bed once more before finally deciding to leave the room. Maybe a glass of milk would do her good.

Akane sat in the kitchen, watching droplets of moisture slide down the side of her glass. She was finding it very difficult to move. Her body had locked into the only position it was comfortable in, as if the onslaught of philosophical questions would be too much to bear if she so much as moved her finger.

How pathetic, she said to herself, Akane Tendo, you're afraid of your own thoughts? She would have sighed if she could.

A sound from the dojo broke the stillness of the air and she finally managed to look up from her glass of milk. Curious, she stood, beverage still in hand, and made her way downstairs.

She stepped into the warm light of the dojo, expecting to see her dad. She hadn't seen him practicing seriously in so long and a small part of her was hoping that he was there, just as sad as she was, just as scared, and just as lonely for the very special person who went away far too early.

But it was Ranma she found. Ranma in the middle of a kata. He hadn't even begun to sweat, but he looked tired.

Sensing her presence, he turned towards her, an indiscernible look on his face. Akane tried to think of the reasons behind that expression and his presence here in the dojo. He seemed disturbed about something. What that something was, she did not know. Anyway, what did Ranma know about death? Did Saffron count?

Well, as far as she knew, he had never lost a loved one.

"What's wrong?" It was the boy who spoke first.

Momentarily startled (he had beaten her to the question), she answered quietly, "I don't know… Mr. Kobayashi…" She sighed. "I don't like this."

He walked past her, out the door, and sat on the floor. Leaning back against the wall, he looked at her, silently asking her to sit beside him. She sipped at her milk and sat down, positioning herself to his right.

He took the glass from her and downed the rest of the milk. Somehow, that wasn't annoying.

They were quiet for about a minute before Akane couldn't take the silence anymore. In her mind, it had already exhausted its purpose.

"I keep thinking about mom," Akane said. Ranma stared at her, hands behind his head. "I don't like this feeling… but you know what's weird?" She sighed. "I don't want it to go away… All these years, I wanted to remember because forgetting the pain seems too much like forgetting her too." She choked on the last words.

"Hey," Ranma said. "Don't cry." He brought his hands down. He wanted to touch her shoulder, but wasn't quite sure if that would be the right thing to do.

"Sorry," Akane replied, swiping quickly at her tears with the back of her hand. "Anyway," she continued, inhaling deeply, "what's bothering you? Has anyone ever died on you?"

The bluntness of her words surprised him but he figured that there really was no better way to put it. In his life, people came and went all the time, for all the wrong reasons. It wouldn't be so strange if someone just up and died on him. Even he was risking his life so often that it almost seemed trivial.

Has anyone ever died on me?

"No." Just almost.

Well, that was that.

Akane looked out into the yard and then up at the sky. Ranma did the same.

"Hey, Ranma," she said after a long pause.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you afraid of growing old?"

Ranma looked at her again. She was still staring up at the sky. "I ain't afraid of nothin'," he answered. "Except cats…" he muttered under his breath.

"Really?" She finally turned to meet his gaze. "Even if you're not gonna be the Happosai-Cologne-freaky kind of old? Anyway, one day, even they wouldn't be able to deliver a punch anymore."

Ranma shrugged, blushing from the answers forming in his head.

Akane stared at him expectantly. He shrugged again. She sighed in frustration, more than a little miffed at his nonchalance. After all, martial arts were Ranma's life. What else could he possibly care about besides becoming the best martial artist?

"Don't you get it, Ranma? Age is going to take everything away from us. We spend all our lives training and trying to get stronger and one day, it's just going to go away. We're not even gonna be attractive anymore."

Ranma smirked, finding an opening. "At least you couldn't get any worse."

"Ranma!" she said, lightly hitting his arm. "I'm serious."

He sat up straighter and turned to her. "Look, it's not like I haven't thought about it before but I figure all I can do is just live my life while I can."

"And then what?" she asked in a voice so childish it made Ranma pause.

"I… I don't know…"

"Sometimes I think that, if anything, this is all just a big, stupid irony. We're all just gonna die one day and we're not even sure if anyone will remember us!" She wasn't shouting but it felt the same.

Eyes widening, Ranma stared at his fiancée. "Akane-"

"What's the point?"

"Look-"

"This is just scary. Why can't there be any certainty in anything?"

"If you would just-"

"What have we got except martial arts and good looks!"

"I got you!" He wasn't aware that he had blurted it out until Akane paused, staring at him incredulously.

The next words that came out of her mouth were not what he expected.

"What… what makes you so sure, Ranma?" she said softly.

He gulped, trying to ignore the contraction of his chest. That stung. "W-what do you mean?"

"We're talking about getting old and dying… What makes you so sure we'll be together when all that happens?"

"Well… you are engaged to me, you know…"

"So are three other girls."

"Two," he corrected. "And I don't know… you're… It wouldn't be so bad if you… if you're the one…" He scratched the back of his head in discomfort.

Smiling despite herself, Akane supplied, "You've gotten used to me."

"Uh, yeah… sure…"

"You know what?" she smiled at him as he turned to look at her. "You're right. It wouldn't be so bad…"

Finally, she made a move to stand up. But before she could get to her feet, Ranma grabbed her arm, looking at her with those dimmed blue eyes.

"If it helps any, I wouldn't forget you, Akane."

Ranma in a black Chinese shirt, being uncharacteristically solemn. Akane dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, her small nose slightly red.

Mr. Kobayashi was cremated and the funeral had been two days ago.

Soun and his daughters had attended the small, quiet gathering at Mr. Kobayashi's house. Jiro and his pregnant wife met them at the door, their faces a subtle reminder of what the Tendo family had looked like when they had been the ones receiving condolences. Nabiki and Akane had managed to keep it together, the younger girl finding the task more difficult. Soun and Kasumi had not fared as well. They had walked home in a silence that was heavier than the one they had experienced the day before.

Now, Ranma and Akane were walking on the beach, following the small, quiet procession of Mr. Kobayashi's friends and family. Ranma was vaguely aware that he and the girl whose hand he was clutching had fallen behind. He glanced at her blotchy face, the puffy eyes, wanting to tell her that it was going to be okay. He had gone with them for a reason. He wanted to understand a little bit of this kind of loss, the kind that let you know that things were permanent, the kind that made you doubt that the feeling of emptiness would ever stop.

He dimly remembered feeling something like that, having the terrifying knowledge that he had lost something very, very precious and that no matter what he did, or how strong he became, he would never get it back.

There had been so many nevers that day and one particular train of thoughts stood distinctly in his mind. I want my kids to grow up with a mother. If Akane couldn't have hers and I couldn't stay with mine…

He squeezed Akane's hand. She looked up at him, smiling slightly. My kids will have theirs for as long as they need her.

He wanted to make sure of that.

The ceremony took about an hour. Jiro said a few words about his father and then bid him goodbye. His wife cried the entire time. So had Kasumi.

A little boat took Jiro out into the ocean, where he scattered his father's ashes, his brown head rising and dipping against a bright blue horizon. And then he returned, a tiny, but genuine smile on his face.

Ranma held Akane's hand through all of it and somehow, it didn't feel strange at all.

She would give him a kiss on the cheek later that day and even that wouldn't feel strange either.

End

A/N: Hope somebody enjoyed reading this. Thanks to my good friend (you know who you are) for the editing and stuff.