Prologue

    The open sea rolled out before her.
    Ukyou squinted a little as the light sprays of salt water
sprinkled across her face, a few of the tiny drops stinging her
eyes as they flew.  Cold gusts blew from the sky of thick gray,
and after a couple of quick blinks the obliging breezes cleaned
away the water droplets.
    Waves bounced lightly against the hull of the little ship,
causing it to heave to-and-fro in the chilly waters, but the mild
rocking didn't cause Ukyou any discomfort.
    Actually, it may have caused her a little uneasiness, but
there was so much going through her mind at the time that for all
she knew almost anything could have been causing the knotting in
her stomach.  Perhaps it was the vast open spaces that loomed
before her, stretching so far that the water seemed to mesh into
the cloud cover on the horizon.  There was so much of that space,
going on forever in every direction, that one had to wonder if
there was actually any land out there.
    Or maybe it was the space she had left behind her...
    Ukyou sighed and closed the top clasp on her jacket for
warmth.  This had to be the hardest thing she had ever done in
her life, but something inside her said it had to be done.
    So she did it, simple as that.
    For a moment she felt kind of stupid, just giving in to an
impulse like that, but she quickly shrugged it off.  "I'm going
to feel like that a lot for a while, aren't I?" she mock-asked
herself under her breath.
    Shaking her head to toss away any growing thoughts of regret,
Ukyou fully directed her attention back out to the ocean before
her.  The ship would reach port in another day, and then she'd
have the land stretching out before her once more, just like the
sea (except a lot easier to stand on and not quite as
nauseating).
    And then...  Well, who knows?  She'd find that out later.
    Right now there was just the rocking of the boat, the wind in
her hair, and the open sea before her.
    "By a high star our course is set, our end is Life.  Put out
to sea."  Ukyou rubbed her face wearily as she remembered the old
Louis MacNeice poem from her college English literature course.
    "High stars," she repeated to herself sadly, looking up at
the impenetrable blanket of gray hanging in the darkening sky.
There were no stars up there, just the thick gray that loomed
from horizon to horizon.  A thick gray that she would have to
fight her way through, for as long as it took.
 

    Life is a funny thing.  The places it takes you, the things
it does to you...  And the weirdest part is that you can never
really plan on all of it happening in advance.  Like when you're
in your elementary school class, or talking with your grandparents,
or a college counselor, and you're asked "Where do you see yourself
in ten years?".  I never actually had a problem answering this
question back then.  "I'm going to be an okonomiyaki cook!"  I
would reply in full confidence.  Well, in truth there was little
doubt that I'd grow up as anything else -- it's what I've always
been best at -- but this was a simple answer that placated almost
everyone.  The twist to this question came when I asked it to
myself : "Where do you see yourself in ten years?" I'd ask myself,
and my reply was always "With Ranma at my side."
    That was it.  No more was needed for me...
    I suppose the funniest part about it was just HOW sure I was
of my answer; I had almost more faith in that declaration than I
did about my future as a cook!
    And now, years later...
    No one can predict the future, I guess.
    Hold on, hold on, I'm getting a little ahead of myself.  Let
me start from the beginning...

----------------------B  O  O  K    O  N  E----------------------
-------------------------ENDLESS  CYCLES-------------------------

    The girl that you would come to know as Ukyou Kuonji was born
in northern Japan to a skilled okonomiyaki cook / warrior pair
that made their living selling the pancakes that they had devoted
their lives to cooking.  My father was Oushi Kuonji, a strong man
with a spiky beard that always gave him kind of a gruff exterior,
and my mother was Meushi Kuonji, a pearl of a woman that held
many of the same physical features that I would inherit with
time.
    The beachside house I was raised in comfortably (if not a
little tightly) held my parents, myself, and my three siblings :
Shoto, Shobayashi, and Ryori.  Of the four, I was the second
oldest (as well as the only girl), although in the end was by far
the most devoted to learning my parents' trade; Shobayashi had no
ability when it came to cooking (he could ruin cereal), and my
older brother Shoto, while displaying a lot of natural skill, had
no patience in learning and mastering the fine culinary art of
the okonomiyaki.  That left myself and Ryori, my twin brother who
I was elder of by only six minutes, to carry the torch.  My
parents, though they loved their children very much, had put us
through grueling training seminars, determined that at least one
would carry on the family business.  I wasn't exceptionally
disciplined at the time and took an intense dislike to the harsh
training and practice sessions set by my father and mother, and
my interest in flipping the dish was waning as the years passed.
At first it looked as though Ryori would be the one that would
carry on the family's proud tradition, a tradition that had been
passed from generation to generation to generation and so on...
    And then I met him.
    I was six when the little ponytailed boy first ran up to my
father's yatai, crashing through me as I was alone practicing
mixing ingredients and grabbing one of my father's ready-made
pancakes.  Before I could even get up off the ground the boy had
scarffed down the dish and was running off cheerfully down the
street.
    That night had not been the most pleasant, for my father had
seriously reprimanded me for being pushed around so easily by
this upstart boy.  I hadn't needed my father's scolding, however,
for my pride was strong and I felt bad enough at the ordeal
myself.
    At that moment, I vowed that I would never let the boy near
the yatai again.
    The next day the ponytailed boy ran up, barreled through me
easily as I attempted to hold him off, stole another okonomiyaki,
and ran off down the street again.
    Needless to say, I was seriously pissed off.  So I practiced
harder, hoping that the next day would prove different. The next
day, unfortunately, resulted in the same humiliating defeat.  As
did the next.  And the next.  And the next.  And so on...
    Every day for the next year I would see the boy run down the
street, and every day I would brandish my mini-spatulas, ready
for a fight.  And every day he would plow right through me, pull
an okonomiyaki off the griddle, and happily run down the street.
Ever so often my father would be there as it happened.  "Stop
him, Ukyou," he would calmly say, and go about his work as his
daughter ended up on her face and another okonomiyaki ended up in
the boy's hands.
    Eventually (and with quite a bit of surprise, I might add), I
learned the truth : that my father already knew the boy and his
father, Ranma and Genma Saotome, and that he had actually hinted
to the little boy that I was happily waiting to give him an
okonomiyaki on the condition that he could get by me.  It was all
part of our parents' respective trainings of their children;
Ranma would get a sparring partner in this novice cook, and vice
versa, forcing the two of us to increase our fighting potential.
The point had quickly been moot to Ranma, for his fighting
abilities were so naturally great that he easily walloped me on
his first try and every try after that.  I, on the other hand...
    After discovering the austere truth, this little girl had
decided to test herself on Ryori, who had been fortunate enough
to train normally under our mother's tutelage when Ranma wasn't
around.  In a sparring match that lasted four seconds, I quickly
(and effortlessly) beat my twin brother to a pulp.  Without even
realizing it, every day of being beaten by Ranma had actually
increased my abilities exponentially, making me far superior in
skill to my brother.
    This revelation did nothing to end my training, however;
Ranma still came every day after that, and I still got beaten up
shortly after.  But now it was different, now I saw a reason
behind it all.
    "Hey!" I called out one afternoon, spitting the dirt from my
mouth as I pulled myself to my knees.
    Ranma skidded to a stop in his tracks, surprised to actually
get a verbal response from his long-time sparring partner.
"Yes?" he asked, halfway munching on his newly-acquired
okonomiyaki.
    "I'm Ukyou Kuonji," I said, trying to sound gruff and
foreboding (it was easy; I just had to imitate my father).  I
finally got to my feet and hobbled over to my enemy until I was
looking him dead in the eye, hoping that my bravado would unnerve
the little boy so that he would go into the next battle with a
little fear, maybe even forgo any further fights.
    Unfortunately, the ponytailed boy missed my intent
completely.  "I'm Ranma Saotome!" he said cheerfully, delighted
that he had finally gotten a chance to formally meet his new
friend.
    I wasn't sure if this kid in the white karate gi had gotten
my meaning, so to emphasize my point I pulled a couple of small
spatulas from my bandoleer and stood menacingly across from him.
    Ranma had never been one of the quickest people in the world
(at least not in the interactive sense), and once again he missed
the purpose of my actions entirely.  "I can't play right now," he
said, turning back for the street, "Daddy told me to come
straight home after school.  Maybe he'll let me stay a little
longer tomorrow..."
    This was NOT what I had wanted to hear.  "What?!  But--"
    Ranma had already begun to run down the street, and hadn't
heard my protests.  As he reached the edge of sight he turned and
waved to me.  "SEE YOU TOMORROW, UK-CHAN!!" he yelled out, just
before disappearing over the ridge.
    I was tempted to chase after him, but my feet were rooted
into the ground and I just stood there, perplexed.
    "Uk-Chan...?"
    Ranma had kept his word, and after beating me up the next day
he stuck around for a while.  To my dismay, my father had
actually given me some extra time off so I could learn a little
more about the boy, so I practically had no choice but to hang
around with Ranma for the afternoon.
    To my complete surprise, I actually found myself enjoying the
time I was spending with this plucky kid, although I tried my
best not to show it, trying to be as tough and boyish as possible
in order to hide my amusement.  No one bought it, of course; to
any adult it was obvious that I was having fun with him, and
Ranma simply thought that his Uk-Chan was just that kind of boy.
    I began to look forward to the afternoons, now; taking so
many beatings had made me quite pain resistant, so being defeated
by Ranma was no longer a terribly unpleasant ordeal, and my
father had begun to let me have more free time so that I could
spend extra time with the boy.  Together the two of us would
play, mock-fight, run around, and all-in-all have fun.  I had
even begun to paint faces on the okonomiyaki for my Ran-Chan's
benefit.  Despite the fact that we would always begin the day
together fighting, Ranma and I had become best friends.
    Then came the fateful day.
    It had been a mutual thing between our parents; Genma had
decided that Ranma needed to move on to bigger and better
challenges than what he was being presented with here, and Oushi
felt that my new friendship with Ranma had put my training in
jeopardy.  However, he was still my father and he loved me
dearly, wanting me only to be happy.
    Oushi offered to let Genma and Ranma take me so that the two
of us children could be married one day; it would mean that the
family business would have to rest on Ryori's shoulders, but my
happiness was tantamount, and Ryori's skills, while not in my
league, were still quite good.  Genma had to decline the offer,
however, saying that Ranma already had prior obligations with one
of the daughters of his long-time friend Soun Tendo.
    The two men made a pact, deciding that they would let their
children decide their own fate.  If Ranma wanted to marry me,
Genma would forgo his obligations with the Tendos and take me
along.  If Ranma decided otherwise, however, Oushi would give
Genma his yatai as a dowry.
    Unfortunately, Ranma's ignorance in so many things was not a
product of environment, but rather one of genetics, a trait
passed down through the male genes of his family.  "Ranma," Genma
said on the afternoon of that whispy-clouded day, "What do you
like better : Ukyou or okonomiyaki?"
    Ranma, being so young, could probably be excused for his
answer.  After all, boys don't really LIKE boys, at least not in
the way that his idiot of a father had implied to him.  So Ranma
easily made his decision.
    "I like okonomiyaki!"
    This had been the major turning point in my life.
    Ranma rode off into the sunset on my father's yatai, and I
was abandoned, or so I felt, by the boy I wanted to marry.  It
was not a good time for me.
    My parents could see that their daughter was not in the best
of moods after that, and although my training in okonomiyaki
cooking and fighting had suddenly soared to new heights as I
practiced daily against the raging sea (which was conveniently
outside lining the back porch), they could tell that I had taken
this thing with Ranma a little farther than any of them had
expected.  This was specifically most noticeable by my mother
when I had hit puberty.
    Many were the occasions when Meushi would have to correct
guests when they commented on the fine growth of the four Kuonji
sons.
    Despite my mother's continuing warnings regarding chest
straps and their effects on a developing woman's breasts and my
brothers' protests that I was getting asked out by more girls
than they were (especially, in their own words, that cute Tsubasa
chick), I had clung tightly to my new vow : to shun all my
womanhood after being scorned so deeply by Ranma Saotome.  I went
to school regularly in a boy's uniform, wore no makeup, and acted
as masculine as possible to keep in accordance with my vow, a vow
which I faithfully kept for almost nine years.
    We now look back at my life a little after my sixteenth
birthday...
    I had accidentally discovered the whereabouts of my lost
love, and was determined to exact great vengeance and vent
furious anger upon the evil scoundrel for what he had done to me.
My parents would have preferred that I finish school at home
before going on any vendettas, but neither could argue when I
claimed that I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself.
Using what little money my father had supplied me with, I
ventured to Nerima, set up my own restaurant, and enrolled myself
in Ranma's school, where I would challenge him and destroy him.
    Unfortunately, while my fighting skills had become
astronomical, Ranma had done some serious advancements in kenpo
in the elapsed time period as well, and quickly thrashed me when
I made my challenge.
    It was also at this time that Ranma discovered that his
childhood friend was, in fact, a girl.
    Needless to say, the two of us resolved our problems (sort
of), and became best friends once again, although my intentions
were now well known to Ranma, who had since been engaged to a
couple of other girls, as well.
    But I was his first documented fiance, and I rode that hope
for the years to come, devoting my life to making a good wife for
my Ran-Chan, even if it meant facing off against my new rivals
Akane Tendo, Kodachi Kunou and Shampoo.
    We now hit what some call the "Takahashi Wall", the
up-to-date history of my time and exploits in Nerima at ages
sixteen and seventeen, documented by some cartoonist who was able
to to cover our experiences with surprising (almost eerie)
detail.  As such, further extroplation into this time frame is
unnecessary.
    So we move on...
    At the behest of their parents, Ranma and Akane were married
before they ventured off to college together, despite protests
from every side (including Ranma and Akane).
    This was a crushing blow for me, since I had always been sure
that Ranma would be mine.  Nothing made sense anymore.  Every bit
of me wanted to scream out at the world in anger and sorrow, to
scream out at Ranma in particular for abandoning me once more.
    But unlike Kodachi and Shampoo, I couldn't bring myself to
fight Akane after this.  I loved Ranma too much to show him how
much I'd been hurt by this turn of events, afraid that he would
in turn be hurt, too.  So I buried my feelings under smiles and
expanding friendship, content with my fate and hoping that Ranma
would be happy with his new wife.
    Deep inside, though, I couldn't hide the pain from myself,
and somehow, somewhere, I secretly hoped that things wouldn't
work out between the two, that through an incredible twist of
fate the two would split up, and Ranma would come running to me,
and we'd get married after all, and he'd live by my side at my
restaurant, and...
    It seemed like such a good chance, too; even after they were
married Akane and Ranma would keep arguing and fighting with each
other constantly, and no relationship that tumultuous could ever
last...
    And with that we move up to more pivotal times, six years
after I first set foot in this town...

                         *   *   *   *   *

    "Uk-Chan's" was open for business, and as usual business was
booming.  The Friday-afternoon crowd had reached full swing, and
I was busily cooking okonomiyaki on the griddle at breakneck
pace, my hands zipping back and forth so fast that they became a
hazy blur.  But somewhere within that blur, okonomiyaki would
come flying out, landing on nearby plates and plates all the way
across the room.  People watched in wonder as I magically worked
the small spatulas in my hands, a wholly determined look on my
face.
    The little restaurant appeared much the same as it had over
the years under my ownership : flat wooden stools lined the front
griddle and booths were nestled comfortably along the walls,
although once my neighbors had moved out a couple of years back I
had been able to have the southern wall torn down and an extra
room of tables and booths added.  Stacks of shoes filled the
cubbies beside the front door, and the wooden floorboards had
just received a new varnishing a couple of weeks back.  And as
always, the most predominant feature of the whole room, I was the
centerpiece, diligently working behind the same griddle that I
had been queen over for the past six years.
    The weather had been getting a lot colder over the past few
weeks, and a blue sky was becoming somewhat of a rarity in the
approaching winter season.  The cold December weather wasn't any
problem for me, however; I (and many thankful customers) always
got a good dose of warmth from the constantly-active griddle.
Besides, I almost never ventured out of my restaurant, anyway,
except to buy groceries and occasionally see a movie, so winter
or summer, the temperature outside made precious little
difference to me.
    The glass doors slid open, and my hands immediately stopped
their master-work (causing a number of spectators to tumble over
disorientedly when they discovered their eyes weren't focussed on
anything moving anymore) as I looked up at the entering guests.
    Six-o'clock, Friday afternoon.  I always hated this time of
the week.
    "Yo, Uk-Chan!"
    "Hi, Ran-Chan," I returned cheerfully.  I didn't feel very
cheery, but one had to maintain appearances.
    Ranma held the door open as Akane walked in, giving me a
pleasant smile as she stepped through the doors.  I smiled back.
I had to do it now if I was going memorize the feel of a smile;
I had found that smiling always became more difficult as this
evening dragged on.
    Ranma stepped back out for a second and reached down at the
foot of the door.  Soon after, a two-year-old boy with a tiny
ponytail found himself lifted up and propped onto his father's
shoulders.
    "Kouma is getting bigger every time I see him," I said,
quickly remembering what my smile was supposed to feel like and
faking it with years of precisioned experience.
    "Yep," Ranma said, beaming with pride, "Soon he'll be able to
whip his old man in a fight."  As he said so he reached up and
playfully tickled his son on the nose.  The little boy grabbed
his father's finger, and Ranma mock-winced, pretending that his
son was crushing his finger in an iron grip.  "As it is he can
whip his mom any time of the day."
    Akane turned on Ranma, raising an eyebrow.  "Are you calling
me weak, you baka?"
    Ranma duplicated her eyebrow-raising.  "Who are you calling
baka, you violent woman?"
    "Oh, yeah?  How would you like this violent woman to punch
you in the nose?"
    "Ha!  You'd just end up hurting yourself."
    "I'll end up hurting YOU if y-you don't pipe d-dow-down...
BWAHAHAHAAA!"
    Both Ranma and Akane suddenly burst out laughing.  "I-I'm
sorry," Akane said, wiping her eyes, "I just couldn't hold it in
any longer."
    "Nah," Ranma said, trying to stifle his giggling and removing
his wife's coat, "We're just a little out of practice is all."
    Still faking a smile, I rolled my eyes.  Out of practice?
They played this game every WEEK!
    Like clockwork, Ranma, Akane, and their son Kouma would have
dinner at my restaurant every week at six, an hour after Ranma
closed the dojo doors.  They would come in, play-fight with each
other, then find themselves a table, order an okonomiyaki dish,
stay for about an hour and a half while some of their friends
showed up and joined them, and leave, only to repeat the cycle
the next week.
    "There's an open booth over there," I said, pointing with one
of my spatulas to a good-sized booth with a window view of the
street beyond.  I was quickly surprised to see how dark the sky
had already gotten; I had almost forgotten how short the days
were becoming.
    The Saotomes slid into the booth, Ranma propping his son on
his lap so the little boy could see over the table's rim.  I
sighed as she looked at the child : he was adorable, a miniature
version of his father, although one could see Akane very well in
the inquisitive brown eyes.  I was a little jostled when I
noticed the eyes were looking back at me, and nervously waved to
the little boy.  Kouma grinned back happily and sent me a wave of
his own.
    "Nihao!"
    The greeting caught me by surprise, and as I looked towards
the door my eyes glanced at the wall clock.  Hmm, they were about
fifteen minutes early.
    Shampoo slid open the door and removed her warm coat, as
vibrant and glowing a woman as ever.  But then again the Amazon
always seemed to handle pregnancies well.  Her swollen belly was
a good size now, and within the month she'd probably have another
son or daughter running around the Nekohanten.  Shampoo removed
her shoes as she walked in, followed by the familiar tall form of
her black-haired Chinese companion.
    "Hello, Saotomes," said Mousse as he removed his shoes.
    "No, dear," Shampoo said, turning his head away from the
group of potted plants near the door, "The Saotomes are over
THERE."
    At the time, I was probably one of many that still couldn't
believe it every time I saw the Chinese couple go somewhere
together.  This marriage was STILL catching people by total
surprise, even after three years.  And to add to the shock value
the two already had four children, with yet another on the way!
Amazingly, though, Shampoo always came through it looking exactly
as she did when she was eighteen, without a bit of stretched skin
or an extra ounce of fat on her body.
    "Nihao, Ukyou," Shampoo said pleasantly as she led her near-
blind husband to the booth.  Mousse waved to the wall clock in a
friendly manner.
    "Hi, Shampoo.  Hi, Mousse."  It was funny how some things
turned out in the end; the two of us had been almost mortal
enemies for years, disputing for Ranma's hand with almost
fanatical passion, but after Ranma's marriage and her own
subsequent marriage to Mousse, Shampoo had suddenly become a good
friend, as likable and amiable as any I'd known. Even Akane was
treated nicely, without any form of grudge or malice.
    Oh, how things could change over time.
    It would probably be a little while before the next group
showed up, so I quickly finished off a couple of waiting orders
and sidled around the griddle, removing my apron as I went and
grabbing a chair on the way.
    "So where are the kids tonight?" I asked.  Normally they'd
bring the whole clan with them, but tonight it was just the
husband / wife team.
    "Great-grandmother-in-law is watching them," said Mousse as
he took the chair and held it out for Shampoo.  "She said she
wanted some more 'quality time' with her great-great-grandkids."
Mousse always winced a little whenever he brought up Cologne, as
it was no secret that even after being a part of the family for
so long neither of them had been able to hit it off.  Fortunately
(for Mousse, most of all), Shampoo was usually able to intervene
on her husband's behalf before any heavy damage took place in
their restaurant.
    I began to slide into the booth next to Ranma, but quickly
stopped myself.  Shampoo may have been off the Ranma-wagon for a
few years now, but she had never quite gotten rid of the jealous
streaks she was known for harboring when she saw another woman,
ANY woman, a little too close to 'her man'.  If I sat down next
to Ranma it would mean Mousse would be sitting next to me or
Akane, of which neither proposition would have settled well with
the Amazon woman.  So I swallowed my desire to sit and awkwardly
bent my arms, trying to look as though I was graciously inviting
Mousse to move in next to Ranma.  Mousse nodded his thanks and
slid into the booth.
    The doors to the restaurant slid open, and walking in with
impeccable elegance and grace was the twenty-four-year-old
businesswoman that had been the success story of the Tendo
household.  Removing her Armani jacket (but not daring to place
it on the coatrack next to all the other, less distinguished
coats) and removing her highheeled shoes, Nabiki walked up to the
family Saotome with arms wide.  "Hi, sis!"
    "Onechan!"  Akane quickly got up and hugged her sister
tightly.  Nabiki rarely came to these dinners as she was almost
always at the office or in her Tokyo condominium entertaining
guests, so this was indeed a happy sight for her.
    Ranma followed Akane out and gave Nabiki a hug, as well.
"Hey, bro!  How are you doing?" Nabiki asked happily.
    "Great!  You got some free time today, huh?"
    "Only for a few hours, then I've got to head right back to
town," Nabiki replied as she let her sibling and sibling-in-law
slide back in, then followed suit and moved in by her sister.
After it looked like everyone had gotten comfortable, I sat by
Nabiki.
    "So, how much longer?" Nabiki asked as she eyed Shampoo.
    "Two weeks, maybe three," Shampoo responded as she patted her
tummy.  "Hibachan says it's going to be a boy."
    "So that makes, uh..." Nabiki counted her fingers.  "Let's
see, two girls and two boys."
    "Three boys," Mousse corrected.
    "Wow, _FIVE_?  I almost forgot."
    The group chatted smalltalk for a little, mostly about what
happened in the past week.  Most of the conversation had centered
on Nabiki, who no one had seen for a month (life as an executive
tends to keep one locked up like an animal in a cage, according
to Nabiki's description).  I tried to get a few words edgewise
into the conversation, but after a couple of minutes I decided
that I just didn't have the heart and instead opted to bring
everyone some food.
    It was forty-five past six when the door slid open once more.
    "Ryouga-kun!  Over here!"
    "Akane-san!"
    Ryouga waved, then promptly turned back to the door and
stepped out.  He was promptly wheeled back in by a young woman
wearing a warm-looking dress, a pair of pink streaks running down
the temples of her black hair.
    "_That_ way, Ryouga-sama."
    Akari pointed Ryouga in the correct direction, herding him
back towards our booth whenever he unerringly began to veer off
course.  Eventually the couple made it over to the group and said
their greetings.  Everyone thought the twosome made a cute pair,
although they were so incredibly shy that it had taken all this
time for them to finally get engaged, a date that was set
sometime in the spring.  I said my hellos and whipped up another
okonomiyaki dish for the two.
    All the appointed guests had arrived, and the grouping
finally got into full swing.
    People talked, laughed, drank, ate, and had a good time.  But
then again times _were_ good.  None of us were fighting against
each other anymore and families were starting or had already
flourished (for most of us, anyhow...).
    It was around seven-thirty when Mousse stood up and clanked a
glass with his fork.
    "Excuse me, I'd like to make an announcement."  It took a few
moments before the others of our group had completely quieted
down (not counting Kouma, who had since fallen asleep in his
mother's arms).  "I'd like to make a little announcement.  The
last six-and-a-half years here have been really... interesting
ones--"
    "To say the least," interjected Ryouga.
    "--and sometimes I have to wonder if Shampoo and I would even
be married if she had never come here chasing Ranma."
    Akane glared annoyingly at Ranma, who looked back at her with
a weak smile and a shrug.
    "We may have had a lot of fights--"
    "'May have'?" muttered Ranma under his breath.
    "--and we may have gone through a lot of tough times," Mousse
continued, "But in the end I think living in Nerima has probably
been the high point of our lives."  Suddenly both Shampoo and
Mousse looked at each other apprehensively, then back at the
group.  "That's why it's going to be a little tough to say
this..."  We looked at each other confusedly, then back at the
Chinese pair.
    "What is it?" asked Akane.
    "Shampoo and I are going to be moving back to the Joketsuzoku
village."
    Everyone's mouth dropped open a foot.
    "You're going back to CHINA?" asked Ranma, totally
flabbergasted.
    "Yes," Shampoo said, her voice carrying a tinge of sorrow to
it.  "We want to raise our children back home, around our
relatives."
    Ranma fell back against the cushioning of his seat, holding
his head in a stupor.  Although we were all wheeling from this
news, it seemed to have hit Ranma the hardest.  "When?" he asked
after a long pause.
    "Not for another few months," Shampoo quickly said, hoping to
alleviate Ranma's worries.  "We've still got preparations to
make, and we have to sell the restaurant.  But... well... To be
honest, we miss China.  Nerima has been wonderful, but we were
born and raised there, and we'd like our children to have the
same."
    The booth suddenly became very silent.  Shampoo and Mousse
had been such an integral part of the group, and without them
around things would simply NOT be the same.
    After a few minutes of empty airtime, Ryouga spoke up.
"Well, jeeze!  What are we all being so mopey about?!  If they're
going to be moving, let's enjoy what time we've got with them!"
    Ryouga's sudden outburst broke the tension that had grown in
the air, and with a outbreak of smiles the rest concurred.
"Barkeep," said Nabiki enthusiastically, "A round of drinks for
everyone on me!"
    I obliged and ran to the back, drawing a few bottles of sake
out of the refrigerator.
    About half-an-hour later the group was tanked.
    Well, half of the group.  Shampoo didn't drink for the
obvious reasons, Akane didn't want to get drunk with Kouma
around, Akari had to stay sober if she was going to drive herself
and her fiance home, and I still had a business to run.
    Ranma, Mousse, Ryouga and Nabiki, however...
    "Sho datsh when I shaid to her 'You can keep yer I.R.A.,
lady, deresh more were dat came from!'"  Under normal (or ANY)
circumstances Nabiki would have been the only one to get such a
joke, but as soon as she started laughing the males began to join
in, rolling all the way.
    "Maybe it's getting a little late..." prodded Akane.
    "What?" asked a woozy Ranma, "Are you kiddin'?  But we're
jusht shtartin'!"  Akane sighed to herself; I supposed she wasn't
looking forward to the impending task of dragging him back to the
Saotome Dojo in his current state.
    "Ishn't married life great?" asked Mousse, clinking a glass
with Ryouga.  "You've always got shomeone watching out for you."
    "HA!"
    "You 'bellowed', onechan?"
    "Oh, come ON, Akane!  Shure, married life ish great for SOME
of you folksh, but not ME.  I'M not settlin' down," Nabiki
slurred as she draped an arm over my shoulder.  "Ukyou an' me,
CONFIRMED bachelorettes for life!  Ain't that right, Ukyou?"
    It took a moment for the words to penetrate, for while I
wasn't in the utterly sloshed state of the others I still had
taken a moderate share of alcohol.  Any traces of sake in my
system immediately evaporated when Nabiki's declaration finally
made their way into my mind; I immediately looked down and burst
out into a deep shade of red.
    "Er..." I tried to mutter out, but the 'er' part quickly got
stuck somewhere in the back of my throat.
    "No, no, wait," said Mousse, "Ukyou'sh been gettin' proposals
from guysh, remember?"
    Ranma rolled his eyes.  "I don't think you can count TSUBASA
as a guy."
    I quickly turned a deeper shade of red.
    "What about Kunou?" asked Ryouga.
    Every person at the table quickly coughed out.  Ever since
Akane's marriage to Ranma, Kunou had diverted tracks to courting
me.  Needless to say, I was NOT happy about this, and no one
there, especially Akane and Ranma, could blame me.
    "KUNOU?!" asked Ranma, standing/staggering to his feet, "Are
you NUTSH?!"
    Ryouga stood/staggered up and met Ranma eye-to-eye.  "What,
itsh true, ishn't it?"
    I was turning deeper shades of red all the time.  Akane and
Akari were quickly beginning to follow suit.
    "Women HATE Kunou... well, every woman except Nabiki, and
that'sh jusht because Kunou's got lotsh of money."  Nabiki
scowled at Ranma drunkenly.
    "Oh, yeah?!  What would YOU know about what women like?"
    "What would _I_ know?"  In immediate response to Ryouga's
question, Ranma grabbed a nearby pot with a plant in it and
overturned it on his head.  Dirt (and one unhappy fern) poured
all over him.
    Akane cupped her face in her hand.  Mousse, Ryouga and Nabiki
broke out into hysterics.  Akari and Shampoo looked at each other
dubiously.  I was still looking at the ground nervously,
continuing to blush.
    "No, no, yer doin' it wrong.  Here, lemee show ya'."  Trying
to properly demonstrate how a Jhusenkyou curse was activated,
Ryouga took Shampoo's glass of water and held it over his head.
Akari's eyes bolted open and before the first drop spilt from the
cup she was over the table and dragging Ryouga out the restaurant
by his ear.
    "Come on, darling, I think you've had enough fun for one
night."  Akari sighed heavily to herself; even after six years,
Akane had no absolutely idea that Ryouga was also P-Chan, and if
all else she would have just preferred to keep this little fact a
secret from her.  "Thank you for the meal, Ukyou, we had a lovely
time."  With Ryouga in tow, Akari waved as she stepped out the
door.  I was able to brush away some of my embarrassment and gave
a weak smile back.
    "I think we've ALL had enough partying.  C'mon, Ranma, let's
go.  You, too, Nabiki."
    "Aw, Akane..."
    "Give me your keys, I'll take us all home in your car."
    Reluctantly, Nabiki dug through her purse and dropped her car
keys in her sister's hand.  "Thanks for a fun evening, Ukyou,"
she said, turning to her hostess, "I hope they didn't embarrass
you TOO much."
    "N-no, not at all.  I had fun too..."  A VERY unconvincing
lie.
    Shampoo hoisted Mousse out from the booth, looking at him
with some annoyance.  "See you next week, Ukyou.  Sorry about
husband's behavior."
    I took in a deep breath and quickly masked my embarrassment
with a friendly, cheerful face.  "No, no, I was glad you guys had
fun.  Thanks for coming."
    Shampoo looked at the sudden change in attitude from me with
a bit of skepticism, but smiled nonetheless and bowed as much as
her body would allow.  Mousse (pointed in the proper direction by
his wife's strong hand) bowed his goodbyes, as well, and soon
they were out the door and heading down the street.
    "Goodbye, Ukyou," said Akane.  "Say goodbye to Ukyou, Kouma."
    "Bye', Aunt Uk-yo."
    I smiled tenderly at the little boy, probably my first
genuine smile of the evening.  "Goodbye, Kouma," I said, rubbing
his hair vigorously.  "Don't give your parents TOO much trouble,
okay?"  Kouma smiled and shuttled off for the door.
    "Bye, Uk-Chan.  We'll catch you next week," said Ranma as he
was led out by Akane, Nabiki following close behind.
    My smile faded immediately.  "Bye, Ran-Chan...  See you next
week."
    I looked out the window as Akane fit Nabiki and Ranma into
the back seat of Nabiki's Lexus, then strapped in Kouma and
herself.  The doors shut, the engine revved, and a few short
seconds later they were gone.
    And so that part of the weekly cycle ended.
    Without a moment's hesitation I looked at the table, trying
to clear my mind of any unpleasant thoughts.  "Well, it looks
like I've got a little cleaning to do," I said, trying
desperately to sound cheerful to no one in particular.
    An hour later "Uk-Chan's" was closed for business.  The floor
had been scrubbed to a shiny perfection and the chairs were
stacked neatly on top of the tables.  I had finished cleaning up
the restaurant and was up in my room before long, pulling out an
R.A. Salvatore novel and lying down wearily on my couch.  After a
few pages, though, I noticed that I was barely paying attention
to what I was reading and was forced to put the book down.
    Thoughts and wild emotions swam through my head.  Another
weekly cycle, I supposed.  It always followed the visit by my
friends : I would say my goodbyes, take care of any remaining
customers, clean up the restaurant, try to read a book, and
then...
    I rolled up on my couch into a fetal position, trying my best
not to go through this part of the routine.  I clenched my eyes,
clenched my teeth, tried to direct my mind to other matters, but
nothing helped.
    Tears began to flow from my eyes, and before I knew it
heaving sobs racked my body.  I didn't want to cry, but I
couldn't help it; it was all just too painful to bear unless I
vented it like this.
    Week after dreadful week, on a Friday afternoon as the clock
struck six, I would sit there with my friends and try to act
happy and cheery and joyful.
    I would sit there and try not to look at Ranma as he happily
talked with Akane.  His WIFE Akane.
    I would sit there and try not to think about how everything I
had ever wanted in life had passed me by and I had been utterly
powerless to stop it, no matter how much I had tried.
    I would sit there and try not to think about the horrible rut
I was stuck in, of how I now had nothing except my restaurant and
my okonomiyaki.
    I would sit there and try not to make eye contact with Kouma,
Ranma's son, a beautiful child that I had absolutely no part in
making.
    I would sit there and try not to remember how much I loved
him, and how none of that love mattered any more because I
couldn't share it with him.
    I tried not to remember that it had been this way for years,
and would be like this for every year to come.
    But always, in the end, I would remember.  And always, in the
end, I would follow the routine.
    Nabiki's drunken statement had made this night especially
bad.  I wasn't just depressed, but humiliated, as well.  I knew
perfectly well WHY Akane and Ranma would visit on a weekly basis;
they felt pity for me, because they knew exactly how badly I had
taken all this, and so they tried to cheer me up by frequent
visits.
    But their actions only had the opposite effects.  They
couldn't know that, of course, and for their sakes I hadn't let
them know what I was feeling.  The Saotomes, after all, MEANT
well.  They WERE my best friends, and I loved them dearly.
    I hated them, as well -- Ranma for leaving me alone again,
and Akane for stealing him from me.
    I didn't want to, but somewhere inside the feelings were
there, and try as I might I couldn't shake them.
    So what was I supposed to do?
    What COULD I do?
    Nothing.  There was no escape from the endless circle, the
self-perpetuating sorrow that my life had seen so frequently for
so many years.  So I obediently followed the evening routine, and
like always the routine ended in the same way : crying myself to
sleep on my couch, feeling horrible, empty, and alone.
    Morning came, and with the new day I rose at the hour of 5:00
A.M., groggily cleaning myself up and going straight to my duties
of owning a restaurant, trying my best not to recollect any of
the feelings from the night before.
    That day passed normally, marred only by the short while that
Kunou and Tsubasa simultaneously entered the restaurant with
batches of red roses (actually, Tsubasa came in AS a batch of red
roses).  I was quite relieved when the two left shortly after
discovering the other suitor, Kunou chasing Tsubasa out the doors
and down the street with his shinnai raised high.  Beyond that
short and rather unpleasant event, the day zipped right on by,
and before I knew it the last customer had stepped out and the
doors to "Uk-Chan's" were locked.
    Actually, Kunou and Tsubasa weren't the only things to make
this Saturday an unpleasant one.
    "Confirmed bachelorettes for life..."  Those words kept
ringing in my ears all day, as they did now while I washed my
restaurant floor, and I could feel my stomach knot every time I
heard them.  I immediately wished that Nabiki hadn't come last
night : under normal circumstances, I could have just released my
pent up feelings on the regular Friday night and be done with it,
shoving any excess pain and emotion down so deep inside myself
that I wouldn't notice them until the next Friday cycle.
    But this time the pain remained.
    Years of living with the aches of a broken heart had made me
rather adept at enduring such pains, however, and with an added
bit of effort I was able to find a small vacant crevice within
myself and shoved the feelings and thoughts of the matter as far
down as possible.  "More fuel to the fire," I thought unhappily
to myself, slowly going on with the evening's cleaning.

                         *   *   *   *   *
 

    The Sunday crowd at "Uk-Chan's" was rather small this day,
lightening my overall workload a bit.  To be truthful, with all I
was going through at the moment I would have just preferred to
completely forget about work for the weekend, but I was running a
business and had a responsibility to my art.
    Try as I might, I hadn't been able to completely blanket my
thoughts about Friday night, and was beginning to worry about why
I couldn't put the events behind me like usual.
    "Nihao, Ukyou!"
    I looked at the door as it opened, more than a little
startled to hear this greeting, especially so early in the week.
    "Shampoo?  What are you doing here?"
    Shampoo smiled as she removed her shoes, closing the glass
doors behind her as she entered.  "I had so much free time, and
it's boring just sitting around in the Nekohanten, so I just
thought I would drop by," the Chinese woman said.
    I was a bit alarmed at the fact the she had come by at all,
especially without Mousse; after all, Shampoo WAS pregnant, and
expecting SOON, at that matter.  "Well, um, thanks for coming," I
said as my guest took a seat in front of the griddle.
    Shampoo ordered an okonomiyaki, which was readily supplied at
no cost, and the two of us chatted casually as she ate.
Eventually the other customers finished their meals and left,
leaving the shop empty except for myself and my friend.
    "I had made plans to come by yesterday, but Hibachan was
keeping too close an eye on me," Shampoo said as soon as the door
slid shut, confirming my suspicions that the Amazon's visit was
probably more than just a social call.
    "Shampoo, you shouldn't be trying to come here at all, not in
your condition."
    Shampoo snorted at the comment regarding her physical state,
a comment that she was probably tired of receiving on such a
regular basis.  "Please!  I could beat you in a fight right now
if I wanted!"  I quickly held back the urge to retort the remark
made by Shampoo's wounded pride; I was well aware how Shampoo
disliked being so restricted physically.  Besides, I wasn't
interested in bringing up the old ghosts of our frequent fights.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, adding a bow to quell any bad feelings
present.
    "No, no, it's alright; you meant well.  But with Mousse and
Hibachan on my back all the time... I think the only thing they
can EVER agree on is to keep me sealed inside that stupid
Nekohanten all day...
    "...Which reminds me why I snuck out this afternoon," Shampoo
said, getting back on track.  "I was wondering how you were
feeling.  You seemed a little unhappy a couple of nights ago."
    "I did?" I asked innocently, hoping that this conversation
wasn't going to be heading in the direction I felt it was.  "It
was just a hard workday, that's all," I said, hoping that would
make an adequate excuse.
    It didn't; three years of being friends had given Shampoo the
insight necessary to know when I was being frank with her and
when I wasn't.  "Hard workday??  You can do this in your sleep."
Shampoo looked around, making sure that no one else was present,
then looked at me solemnly.  "I know it's been hard for you,
Ukyou, seeing him come here every week..."
    Bringing up old ghosts, just what I wanted to avoid; well,
this ghost wasn't old at all, but I was having a hard enough time
dealing with it on my own.  I threw a scowl, hoping it would be
enough to dissuade further probing into the matter.
    Shampoo ignored my grimace and went on.  "I can tell you are
sad every time I come here."
    "Oh, really?" I asked angrily.  "What makes you such an
expert on how I feel?"
    "Ukyou," Shampoo said tenderly, "NO one understands what you
are feeling better than I do.  I had to go through the same pain
when he... left.  You see?  Even now, after so many years, it is
hard for me, even after raising a family."
    I sighed, trying to keep back any negative feelings that were
compiling within me with alarming speed.  This was probably one
of the only chances I'd get to talk openly about this, and as
much as my insides desperately pleaded not to continue, my mind
demanded that I pursue the topic.  "You still love him, don't
you?" I said, more as a statement than a question.  The words
left a bad taste in my mouth.
    "It is hard not to," Shampoo said with a sad shrug.  "I feel
more sorry for Mousse than I do myself, however; I love my blind
fool dearly, but he knows that I still harbor some unsettled
feelings for Ranma.  It is what we have had to deal with together
since we first came to Nerima."
    I was surprised to find how unexpected this was to me.  I had
always thought that Shampoo's feelings towards Ranma had ended
with her marriage to Mousse (a lack of devotion that I continued
to hold as my only remaining grudge against Shampoo).  And now
this?
    "How... how can you stand it?"  I couldn't believe I was
asking the question, as simple as that, but it came and to be
honest I felt relieved that it did.  "How can you come here every
week and look at him sit with her?  I mean, at least YOU have an
excuse not to see him--"
    "_EXCUSE_??" Shampoo interjected sharply.  "My family is NOT
an excuse.  Mousse and my children are very important to me, and
I won't degrade them by using them in such a selfish manner."
Shampoo caught my sudden downglance and quickly lessened her
tone.  "It isn't easy," she said, softer now, "But whenever the
pain comes I have to tell myself that I... that NEITHER of us...
ever had him in the first place : his heart always belonged to
Akane, and so in the end he went to her.  I had to accept that,
firs--"
    "Get out."
    "What?"
    I gave Shampoo such a terrible stare that the Chinese woman
looked as though she was afraid I'd strike her.  "Get out of my
restaurant," I growled with great restraint to my voice.
    "But--"
    "Are you hard of HEARING?!" I yelled, pounding my hands on
the griddle in front of me.  "I SAID GET _OUT_!!"  Then, to
Shampoo's surprise (and my own), I had my spatula in hand,
wielding it threateningly before me.  "Get out or I'll THROW you
out MYSELF!!"
    Shampoo got up, although there was no hurry to her actions,
much to an increasingly impatient okonomiyaki cook's displeasure.
"You've got to accept the facts, Ukyou," Shampoo said with
absolutely no malice to her voice, "He never loved either of us,
not in the way that we wanted him to, anyway.  If you think
otherwise you'll just ruin yourself."
    It took every bit of willpower I could muster to keep myself
from slamming Shampoo across the head with my weapon full-force.
Instead, I merely walked around the counter, trembling in utter
fury, and prodded Shampoo to leave with a gaze that would shatter
a mirror.  Shampoo understood she was no longer welcome and left
the restaurant quietly, giving her hostess an understanding look
as she went.
    As soon as the door was closed, I wheeled about and with
astonishing power slammed my spatula right through my griddle.
Okonomiyaki mix flew everywhere, metal was torn apart, and wood
splintered, but I wasn't through venting my anger, and before I
had even been able to realize it, I had personally torn my own
restaurant apart in a rage.
    For minutes I looked blankly at the mess before me, at the
shattered tables and chairs, at the floorboards that had been
torn asunder, at the walls that were once a clean white, now
marred by the slices of my spatula's sharp edge.
    I had just destroyed my place of business.  The livelihood I
had spent years creating, the only thing I had now, and I had
completely annihilated it in five minutes of madness.
    I promptly kneeled over and threw up.
    What in the WORLD had pushed me to do such a terrible thing,
to treat Shampoo so cruelly and act so savagely?!  And what if I
hadn't been able to hold in my anger?!  Another second and I
would have attacked, maybe even KILLED Shampoo!  Despite her
bluster, there was no way the Amazon would have beaten me in a
fight in such a condition, and, trembling, I wondered if her
condition would have made any difference to me at that moment.
    Wiping my mouth and getting back up to my feet, I slowly
trudged over to the doors and locked them, then walked up the
stairs to my room.  With a weariness that I wasn't even aware I
had, I immediately dropped onto my sofa and passed out.
    Following an evening of stuttered, dreamless sleep, morning
rolled along, but today I didn't get up.  I just laid there,
looking at the back end of my couch, wallowing in bad feelings.
The wall clock downstairs chimed, saving me the trouble of having
to move to see what time it was.
    Ten o'clock.  I was already VERY late in opening.  Regular
Monday morning customers were probably outside at this very
moment, wondering where I was.
    So what.  I couldn't have cared less.
    I laid there for over half an hour, mulling over what had
happened the day before.  It wasn't until my legs began to cramp
that I was prompted to move, otherwise I might have spent the
whole day there.  Groggy and still quite tired, I shambled over
to my bathroom and took a good look at myself in the mirror.  The
red eyed, worn, utterly miserable face of a twenty-two year old
Japanese woman looked back at me.
    I immediately decided that I hated that face.
    "I can't take any more of this..." I said to myself, matter-
of-factly.  "I can't take any more of this damn cycle, I can't
take any more of this pain..."
    I swung open the mirror, revealing the medicine cabinet
behind it.  After looking over the shelves in trepidation, I
found a bottle of sleeping pills.
    "What do I have to show for my life, eh?" I said as I took
the bottle out of the cabinet, closing the mirror and looking
back at the tired face with anger.  "Okonomiyaki.  I'm an
OKONOMIYAKI cook."  My words were said in a way that was meant to
sting, each word dripping with venomous sarcasm.  I wanted to
hurt now.  It was the only way I could force myself to go through
with this.
    "I get courted by Tsubasa all the time.  And KUNOU, we CAN'T
forget Kunou."
    I opened the bottle top.
    "The only people I ever see come because they feel SORRY for
me."
    I poured the contents of the bottle into my hand.
    "And one of those people is the only man I've ever loved, a
man that is MARRIED and has a CHILD."
    I tossed the emptied bottle to the floor of my bathroom. I
watched carefully as it clattered to the ground, rolling across
the wooden tiles and coming to a slow stop in the crease where
the floor and wall met.  I looked back up at the reflection of
the Japanese woman and nearly spat at the revulsion I felt at the
sight of this person I loathed.  It was all this woman's fault!
My life was garbage because of HER!  Tears began to well in the
despised woman's eyes.
    "A man that I'll NEVER HAVE!"
    The last words were cried out in desperation, as though I was
trying to give myself the final compunction to act.
    Nothing.  So I tried again.
    "A man that WILL NEVER LOVE ME!!!"
    The compulsion was there, but still not enough force.  Tears
rolled down my cheeks as I grimaced in fury at my reflection,
throwing every bit of pent-up hatred and anger at the image.
    "_NO_ONE_WILL_EVER_LOVE_ME_!!!" I screamed out at the top of
my lungs, as though I was trying to grab someone's attention to
my plight, to my utter pain and sadness.
    I got someone's attention, alright.
    I looked down at my own hands.
    "My... my god... what am I doing?!"
    I threw the white capsules onto the floor in utter shock and
proceeded to get on my knees, pounding on the pills as much as I
could until nothing was left on the bathroom floor but white,
crumbled powder.  I didn't stop at that, though, and kept
slamming my fist into the dust angrily.
    After a few minutes of punching the floorboards and badly
bruising myself in the process, I pulled back a trembling hand
and looked at the mess before me.
    I had almost killed myself.
    It was too much.  I clutched my head and cried, terrified of
what had almost happened. I would have been dead on my floor,
laying there for almost a week before someone would have forced
their way in and found me.
    It took a good number of minutes, but I slowly got up onto my
feet, still trembling violently, and washed out my face with some
sinkwater until the stinging left my eyes.  I then walked back to
my room and slumped onto my sofa, sitting in a daze, looking at
the empty wall before me.
    Actually, it hadn't been the first time I had considered
doing... what I had almost done; I had considered ending my pain
so drastically on a number of occasions, but I had never gone
through with my thoughts to such an extent.  With a start, I
suddenly discovered that I was feeling rather numb, a kind-of
refreshing sensation brought on by my intense emotional outburst
moments before.
    Well, I certainly couldn't just go downstairs and begin the
workday, now.  I had almost tried to commit suicide, and I
couldn't just do the same thing I did every Friday night and
pretend like it never happened.
    So what was I going to do?  My first thoughts went to telling
Ranma about it, but I quickly dismissed the idea; he would REALLY
take the news bad, and if he knew WHY I had almost done it I
might have put his marriage in jeapordy, as well.
    Maybe I should call Doctor Tofu?  He was the only doctor I
knew, but again I dismissed the idea; I didn't know Doctor Tofu
as well as Ranma and Akane did, and didn't feel like consulting
him on the sole basis that he had a PhD.  Besides, he was married
to Kasumi, and if Kasumi got wind of it then she might tell the
Tendos and the Tendos might in turn tell the Saotomes.
    I CERTAINLY didn't want to tell my parents.  If my mother
knew that I had considered killing myself she might have had a
heart attack or something, and my father... I didn't want to even
THINK of how he might have taken it.
    I began to feel the emotional numbness fade away and the
loneliness creep up on me again, and for a moment I was tempted
to just let it have its way with me as it had on so many other
occasions.  But I knew that any depressing feelings now might
lead back to... that.  So I shoved the loneliness aside as best I
could and tried to continue concentrating on the problem at hand.
    Who to talk to, who to talk to...  Shampoo?  I didn't feel up
to talking to her, especially after yesterday's scene.  Ryouga or
Akari?  I didn't want to frighten them with this.  Tsubasa?  Not
bloody likely.  Kunou?  Even less appealing.  I wasn't close with
any of my neighbors.  I almost laughed when the name "Ms. Hinako"
came into my head.
    An old image suddenly appeared in my head, a face I hadn't
seen in my mind's eye for a long time.  I didn't know the man's
name, but I was fairly certain that I knew where to find him...

                         *   *   *   *   *

    "Uk-Chan's" remained closed for the rest of the day, a sign
sitting on the door apologizing for the inconvenience.
    Elsewhere, in the more mountainous regions of central Japan,
a train pulled into its station, and I squinted to see as I
stepped out onto the weak wooden planks that made its platform.
It was one of those rare sunny days, a nice coincidence coupled
to the first day I had done some serious venturing out in who-
knew-how-long.  The weather was extremely chilly, though, and I
was glad that I had brought my sweater along to keep the cold at
bay.
    Before me laid groves-upon-groves of trees (and precious
little else), a sight consistent with the terrain of when I was
last here.  As I stepped off the platform and headed up the dirt
trail leading up the tall hill, I remembered the last time I was
here, about five-or-so years ago after I had been challenged and
defeated by an upstart cook going by the name of Crepe Joe.  An
old monk had been kind enough to take me under his wing in order
to train me so that I could find within myself the fighting
spirit that had made me the incredible cook I was.  After a week
of intensive training, I had found within me the spark that gave
me my strength, and when it came to a rematch with the smegging
jerk, I had turned Joe into an appetizer.
    I reached the stone gates as I finished my thoughts and
walked in.  The old temple hadn't changed much since I had last
been here, but then again stone aged at a rather slow rate.  My
fears were more focussed on the old monk and whether or not he
was still alive.
    "Ah, you're back."
    I almost jumped a foot in the air at the surprise.  Yep, he
was still there.  And from the looks of things he hadn't aged a
day since I stepped out of the temple.
    The lanky old man looked as he had before, a mess of wrinkles
with a bald head as smooth as a bowling ball.  He wore long
orange robes and stood with a bit of a hunch to his back, but
from the glow of his face I would have to assume that it wasn't
causing him any physical pain.
    "Er, yes I am," I said, trying to compose herself.
    The old man looked me over carefully, taking in my appearance
with interest.  I wasn't all that surprised that he had
recognized me, for aside from growing a bit taller and a
smattering of physical development I had done little to change my
overall appearance throughout the years.  My brown hair was still
hanging long, although I hadn't worn a bow in it for quite a
while, and none of my facial features had changed enough for any
noteworthy differences to develop.
    "So, may I have the pleasure of knowing why you have decided
to grace my temple grounds once more?" he asked pleasantly.
    I thought about what I was going to say.  I was somewhat
embarrassed that I had even come, and for a moment wondered if I
actually needed to bring this up with anyone else, after all.
"Um... I don't know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after
a--"
    "How has your training been progressing?" the priest
interrupted.  "I would be curious to see what you have learned
over the years."
    A relieved sigh escaped my lips.  When it came to showing my
skills, I had absolutely no trouble in public exhibition.  I
slowly pulled my spatula from the holster on my bandoleer and
gave the man a quick grin.  Then, with a swift blur of my hands
that took no longer than the blink of an eye, I had a steaming
okonomiyaki on the end of my large spatula.
    Needless to say, the old man was quite impressed.  I had
progressed so far that I didn't even need a griddle, but could
instead cook okonomiyaki mix on the end of my spatula by simple
air friction.  I was so fast that he hadn't even seen me apply
the mix, yet my control level was so high that I hadn't spilled a
drop, applying it in a perfect circle.
    "You have gone far, young one," the priest tried to say
without sounding as utterly amazed as he was.  "May I?" he asked,
pointing to the end of my spatula.
    I beamed at the praise.  "Of course," I said, holding the
flat end towards him.  The old man took the okonomiyaki and
looked it over, then proceeded to give it a bite.
    Almost immediately the old man stumbled back, his eyes
watering and his mouth open wide.  My glee immediately vanished,
and I followed him as he went for the water fountain where he
washed out his mouth.  "It-it's not good?" I asked, almost afraid
of an answer.
    "S-s-s-STRONG!" he gasped, still trying to clean out his
mouth.  My pleasure immediately returned.
    After a couple of minutes gasping for air, the old Shinto
priest stood up and wiped the water from his eyes.  "The
strongest I have ever tasted in my lifetime.  I suppose we could
say you've gotten that fighting spirit focussed, eh?"  I blushed
wildly at the compliments.
    "However..."  I stopped blushing.  Something bad was about to
come.  "It was rather... sour."
    I gasped and almost choked.  "SOUR??!"
    The old man nodded.  "Your skills are stupendous, and as I
said your incredible fighting spirit is completely focussed on
your art.  But your dish was sour."
    "But-but NO ONE ever complained about that BEFORE!" I
protested.
    This drew a chuckle from the priest.  "No, no one would.  I
have a very... FINE sense of taste."  I sheathed my spatula,
looking at the old man crossly as I did so.  Sour, indeed!  All I
had now was my okonomiyaki cooking, and I wasn't about to accept
some remark saying that even THAT wasn't up to par.
    The monk smiled apologetically, understanding how I had taken
the comment.  "Tell me," he said, "How have you been doing since
last we spoke?"
    I was a bit disturbed at the sudden change in conversation
topic, but with a little bit of mental effort I was able to jump
tracks with him.  "It's been... um... Well, I've been doing
fine... I guess."  I really didn't want to go any further on the
topic; ALREADY my stomach was beginning to tie itself into knots.
    "I see."  The monk obviously didn't believe me, but he let my
comments go as they did.  "And your cooking : obviously you have
been keeping yourself in practice."
    "Then why did you tell me my cooking was sour?" I asked in an
unpleasant tone.
    "Because it was."  The monk was totally unperturbed by the
scowl across my face and continued casually.  "You are extremely
strong, maybe even at the peak of your potential skills.  What
you came to me seeking last time you have found in overabundance
-- pure focus into your art."
    That much was quite true.  Ranma had always been my primary
focus in life, okonomiyaki a close second, but when Ranma left my
life I had been forced to cling onto my cooking skills with all
my might.  It was only natural that all of my focus went into my
cooking, since it was all I had left.
    The monk looked at me as I thought, and from the concerned
look that came across his face it appeared that he very well
understood my dilemma.  "The path to perfection is not always a
healthy one," he continued.  "The strength in your dish was quite
evident in its surface flavor, but what I tasted sour had nothing
to do with the spices or sauces you had used to cook it.  It was
your spirit, the chi you had used to create it, that I tasted."
The old monk turned and looked at the deepening blue skies as he
spoke.  "Your surface, your flesh, is at its utmost power, but
inside you lies a blackness that leaves your chi scarred and
burnt.  It was that blackness that marred the taste of your
okonomiyaki to my mouth.  It is also that blackness that may very
well endanger your life."
    I almost fell to my knees as the statement.  Without even
hearing a word of explanation from me, he had hit the nail on its
mark.
    "You agree with me, child?" he asked, looking at me.
    I tried to say 'yes', but was restricted to a nod of my head.
    The priest looked back at the now-post-noon sky.  "I can't
prod you to give me specifics on what you have discovered on your
own; that is YOUR choice to make.  But I CAN say that, left
alone, this blackness will eat you up from the inside until you
are nothing but an empty shell, an immensely powerful hollow
husk."
    I sat on the rim of the central fountain, my knees decreeing
that they could no longer support me.  After a few moments of
solemn thought, I looked up at the robed priest.  "What should I
do?" I asked quietly.
    The monk smiled at me, although it was a smile that was
burdened with great sorrow.  "I cannot tell you that," he said,
almost apologetically.  "It is your spirit that lies within your
own hands, and it would be folly of me to even begin telling you
how to seek your answers.  This is something that you must
confront on your own, Ukyou."
    And with that the old man turned and slowly walked towards
the shrine.
    I was about to call out to him, but I stopped myself before I
had even opened my mouth.  He had given me all the help he could,
and to ask him anything more would just be a waste of his time.
All I could do was watch as the old man walked across the worn
stones, his feet trudging heavier than I had previously
remembered.
    With a heavy heart, I pulled myself to my feet and stepped
back through the stone archway leading from the Shinto temple.

                         *   *   *   *   *

   Tuesday's dawn was only half-an-hour away when my weary form
stopped and stood before the glass doors of "Uk-Chan's".  I
looked at the drape that billowed lightly in the morning breeze
over the doors, the drape that told everyone that this place was
mine.
    I had arrived in Nerima hours before, but somehow I couldn't
pull myself back here until now; inside those doors laid a
shattered and broken piece of my life, and to be honest I didn't
feel up to seeing it for fear of reminding myself of the events
from a couple of days back.
    I swallowed deeply and stepped up to the doors, unlocking
them and stepping through into the ruined mess that was my
restaurant.  It was still dark outside, only a weak purplish haze
lining the horizon, but I was familiar enough with my store to
see it as though it was high noon, grabbing every inch of detail
that shone before me.
    The damage wasn't really all that bad, mostly superficial.
The walls could be restuccoed, the tables and chairs replaced,
the floorboards rebuilt.  Heck, I knew enough about the world of
okonomiyaki to rebuild the griddle on my own.  I had enough money
saved up to get repairs underway immediately.  I could have the
whole place back in working order in no time at all, and no one
would even be the wiser.
    But "Uk-Chan's" was destroyed, at least in my mind.  It
wasn't the actual damage that said this to me, for the little
restaurant had seen considerably worse over the years; it was
destroyed because what I saw before me was the work of my own
hand.
    And for what?  Nothing more than anger at Shampoo for telling
me a truth I didn't want to hear.
    I felt my insides gnaw at me when I thought about it. I STILL
didn't want to accept what Shampoo had said; after all, I had
been so faithful to Ranma, so utterly devoted to making him
happy.  If I could love him so much, wouldn't it be natural for
him to feel the same about me?
    But it was the truth, wasn't it?  As terrible as it was for
me to think it, I knew that Ranma would never see me as anything
more than a good friend.  Never a lover, never a wife, just
Uk-Chan, his childhood companion...
    I plopped onto the only remaining stool in front of what had
previously been my griddle and drew my knees into myself,
latching my arms around them and slowly rocking back-and-forth.
A cold breeze flew in through the open doors, brushing itself
lightly against my cheek and fluttering my hair.  The light
outside was beginning to grow, a dim glow just behind the horizon
that was giving everything around me shape and form.  People were
beginning to walk past my doors more often, although none of them
bothered to glance within.  I would have to think of something to
do soon, as my shop hours always drew breakfast customers at six
A.M. and they would be sure to notice that something was amiss as
soon as they caught a glimpse inside.
    I could always pull out my yatai from the back storage rooms
and serve breakfast on the street.  I could just tell my regulars
that the building was undergoing renovations and would be fine
the next day.
    Or I could just leave my doors wide open and tell everyone
that Kunou and Tsubasa had it out inside.  No one would doubt
that story.
    By Friday the place would be free of any damage, I thought.
Everyone would come by at six o'clock and never know what had
happened.  Ranma and Akane would sit in a new booth, no questions
asked, and I'd continue the cycle again, sitting alone in the
presence of the man I loved, sitting on the small sliver of a
hope that I knew inside would never come to pass...
    Everything would just stay the same.
    ...
    "No."
    What?  I hadn't even consciously made the effort, but somehow
the word uttered itself from my mouth.  It came so quietly that
for a moment I wasn't even sure if I HAD said it, but after
thinking about it for a second I did recall the sensation of my
lips moving, the breath as it left my throat and stated clearly
in the force of a whisper...
    "No."
    Why 'no'?  Why would I say such a thing?  For a moment I was
afraid that my thoughts were turning back towards self-
destructive ideas, the throes of desperation that I had almost
fallen prey to before; I could even feel within me a sense of
dread, the tight knotting of my stomach in fear.
    But... no, these weren't attached to any suicidal plotting
from within.  Something else inside me had said it, almost in
a... protective manner.
    _Protective_?  Then why was I feeling pains of fear and
apprehension roil inside me now?  Whatever it was that made me
say the word, whatever it was that was feeding the gnawing
sensations in my gut, hadn't left any clue as to the reasons it
had done so.
    "No."
    The word came from my lips a third time, and with this
utterance I located the source of my internal uneasiness.
    The aches I felt weren't flowing from their usual wellspring
: they were not the leftover pains I had received from the
uncountable Friday nights I had endured through, the torment of
seeing the man I loved only inches away yet completely
untouchable, the brutal self-beatings I had dealt my self-esteem
and sense of self-worth over the years because of my inability to
win Ranma's heart.
    It was another kind of pain.  Pain of acceptance, perhaps, or
maybe it was fear of the future.  It could have even been both,
with numerous other details thrown in for good measure.
    Whatever the specific reasons, they had all come from the
same place.
    My heart and spirit were letting me know that I couldn't let
the cycle continue anymore.
    And I agreed.
    I got to my feet and slid through the wreckage, up the stairs
and into my room.
    I slowly returned to the bottom floor ten minutes later and
stepped into the kitchen.  Two minutes more and I stepped through
my doors and onto the concrete beyond, into the bright glow of
the sun as it crested over the horizon.  Nerima was lit
resplendently, beams of yellow and orange and white running
across the sides of buildings and people, down the streets and
over the distant hills in their endless race westward.  The
clouds in the sky were thick, but hanging far enough away to give
the sun a free display this morning in its horizon-wide patch of
blue.  I looked at the sun for a moment as it slowly rose over
the distant hills, then turned my eyes away and looked back at my
shop.
    Within the glass doors I could see the remains of the
griddle, where I had spent countless hours perfecting my art; I
could probably see more of myself in that dull metal than most
people could in a mirror.
    The light reflecting from the metal surface of the griddle
vanished as I slowly slid the opaque drapery across the entryway.
    And with the soft scraping of the door's wooden frame across
it's metal railing, I slid the doorway shut and sealed the lock.
    "Uk-Chan's" was closed, and would not open for business
again.
    I pulled the key from the lock and dropped it in one of the
pockets of the large backpack at my side, never taking my eyes
off the doors as I did so.  I stood there for a minute, staring
at the reflection of the twenty-two year old woman in the glass,
and for a moment wondered if this was the wise thing to do.
    Probably not, I thought, but it _was_ the necessary thing.  I
couldn't stay here anymore, not so close to him.
    So I did the only thing I could do, the only thing that I
could think of that would end my cycle, end the pain of seeing
him through a one-sided mirror, without the dead-end course of
death.  And I did it as quickly as possible, not wanting to
suffer the debilitating effects of second-thoughts.
    That day, Ukyou Kuonji left Nerima, her business, and, more
importantly, her first love Ranma Saotome, behind.
    And with that, I began my journey...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

--Author's Afterword--
    Greetings, all!  Once again I give you my works, sharing with
you what I hope to be an enjoyable bit of reading.  Now, did I say
it would only be a month until I released my next fanfic?  Oops.
Well, time constraints have limited the amount of time I have had
to do the typing thing, but after a lot of work I was finaly able
to get out Book One of what is probably my favorite fanific to
date.
    This story is one that I have been wanting to write for
months, but a number of production problems (such as coming up
with a plot) had impeded the way a little.  But it's here now, so
that must mean that I've finally broken through the barriers and
am ready for publication.
    This time I've gone a little different path than the usual
ones, though.  I've taken certain liberties with the Ranma cast,
liberties which I hope will make the story a little more
interesting than the usual Ranma-standard these days.
    Expect much more story at the end of the summer, during which
this story will inevitably become my largest fanfic to date
(unless the unforseen (gulp) happens...); with some luck, it'll
be done.
                                   Jya ne,
                                   BENARES