***

For a moment, he was sure he was still dreaming. After all, there was no way she could have said what he thought she just said. And if her expression hadn’t been so serious and troubled, he might have even laughed at the absurdity of it all.

But even in a dream, he still couldn’t stand to see her so upset.

“A dream?” he asked slowly, bemused. “Whaddya mean?”

Akane looked down at the table, her hands in her lap. “Well, each dream starts a little differently. Usually I’m in a room getting ready for something—a party, a celebration, a wedding—something important, I think. Or else, I’ll be waiting for someone…” she lifted her head then, her words trailing off as her dark eyes met his.

It was a shy, embarrassed look… but to Ranma, guilt-ridden, it carried all the weight an angry accusation could have: his chest felt heavy and constricted, like a massive bolder had just been dropped, and left to sit on his stomach.

…In many of his own dreams, he had arrived too late; only to find her dead…

But of course Akane didn’t know that, and blushing innocently she looked away. “And I always see people I recognize,” she continued, trying to cover up her embarrassment. “Dad, Kasumi, Nabiki—even Kuno and Kodachi—but they’re not in every dream, and even when they are, it’s very brief. But you’re different Ranma,” she said slowly, her voice low. Her eyes were focused intently on her hands, unwilling to meet his gaze. “You’re always there. At least,” she added, sounding uncertain. “I think it’s you. It looks like you, anyhow, and—well, I feel like it’s you, you know? But in every dream we’re dressed funny, and our names are never the same. And in the end,” she went on softly. “When I— when I die—it always happens in a different place: in a bedroom, by a beach, in a dojo… tonight I was waiting for you in a secret meeting spot. And there’s—there’s always this shadow-thing—” lifting her head, she glanced up at her fiancée, and stopped. “Ranma, what’s wrong?”

He was gripping the tabletop tightly, his knuckles white.

Akane leaned forward, eyes wide with concern. She had expected a certain reaction from him: an inflated ego perhaps, and maybe a taunt or two—but surely he couldn’t be this upset with her over something she couldn’t control. “Ranma,” she repeated, slightly worried. “I asked if you’re alright.”

He made no signs to show he’d heard her.

His mind was filled with images of the shadowy creature from his dreams, its empty form, hovering above her body. And the harder he tried to stop it, the more powerful it became—yelling, threatening, begging—it only seemed to delight it more. It grew larger, darker as it continued sucking the life out of her, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

It was the same thing, over and over again…

…And if Akane was dreaming the same thing…

No, he thought suddenly, shaking his head. That he couldn’t accept. Not yet.

Lifting his head, he glanced up at his fiancée. He wasn’t sure when she had gotten so close—her face was a mere few inches from his own, and she was looking at him intently, biting her bottom lip in what he could only assume was worry. Seeing him blinking at her in confusion, however, seemed to reassure her somewhat, and she leaned back in her chair; though she still looked concerned.

“Are you okay?” she asked again. “You looked—you were really pale just now. You’re not getting sick are you?”

Ranma shook his head and tried to give her a reassuring smile. Though it felt strained even to him, it was the best he could manage under the circumstances. “I’m fine,” he told her. “Just… something you said sounded kinda familiar. That’s all.”

“I see,” Akane replied thoughtfully. “Maybe that sort of thing’s more common than I thought… seeing yourself as someone else, dressing in strange clothes…”

“Not that,” he replied before he had the good sense to stop himself. “The uh… dying part… it kinda reminded me of Jusendou.”

Akane, for some reason, seemed almost delighted by that observation; her eyes widened and she slowly began to smile. “Doesn’t it though?” she asked, leaning forward in her chair. "That was why I wanted to talk to you, Ranma. I thought maybe you could tell me about what happened there—after I grabbed the dragon tap, I mean.” Her face became serious then, and she seemed almost hesitant to continue. “I can’t remember anything that happened to me after I became a doll… all I remember is hearing your voice calling out to me, right after you got me the water. Maybe if I know—maybe if, if I talk about it—maybe these horrible dreams will go away.”

Ranma stared back at her, not saying a word. Talk about it…? About what exactly? The hell he’d gone through when he first thought her dead—when all he had left of her was a singed Chinese shirt? Or maybe she’d like to know more about the battle with Saffron—the one he’d almost lost—the one where he almost killed a God in order to win. Or perhaps she was just curious to know how he felt when she finally closed her eyes—when for a brief moment, he actually thought he was too late—that he’d never see her open her eyes and smile for him again…

…Yeah. Like that was gonna happen.

Feigning indifference, he tried to keep his voice light. “Nothin’ much,” he told her, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Just the usual: you did something dumb and I had to go outta my way to save ya. It was nothin’ really,” he said. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms behind his head and proceeded to look anywhere but at her.

Akane frowned. It figured… the one time she needed him to be serious... “Dummy,” she muttered under her breath. Abruptly she stood, and began to walk out of the room. Surprised, Ranma quickly stood up too, and maneuvering his way around the table, began to walk closely behind her.

“Where ya goin’?” he asked, watching her curiously.

“Back to bed,” she replied, not bothering to look at him. “You’re apparently not going to be much help, so there’s no point in staying up.” Reaching the foot of the stairs, she sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to ask Ryoga next time I see him.”

Ranma immediately stopped walking at that, and an angry scowl made its way onto his face. “Hey!” he complained, his jaw set. “It ain’t like Pig-boy knows somethin’ I don’t!”

Akane sighed. “Sure, he doesn’t,” she replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “Except for the fact that he’s actually willing to tell me what I need to know.”

“It’s kinda hard to tell ya something when there’s nothin’ to tell,” he shot back. His voice sounded so believable to him that for a moment, he actually convinced himself he was telling the truth.

But Akane didn’t care. Still ignoring him, she started up the stairs and headed straight for her bedroom, the duck nameplate banging loudly against her door as she swung it wide open. Ranma followed closely behind, and was even close to entering the room himself… when she suddenly slammed the door right in his face.

Growling, he turned away.

That was so uncute! Just for that, she could go ahead and dream all the horrible dreams she wanted, for all he cared!

Throwing one last angry glare at her door, he turned and headed back towards his own room.

Ignoring the sleeping panda snoring away on the floor, he threw himself onto his futon and stared up at the ceiling. Without Akane nearby to fuel his anger he felt it quickly drain away.

Only then did he let himself consider everything she’d told him.

Her dreams, they had to be the same. There was no way in hell it was just a coincidence: the meeting places, the different names and clothing, and that damn shadow…

But what did it all mean?

Letting out a frustrated sigh he rolled onto his stomach, eyes fixed intently on the door across the room… though he was really only interested in what lay beyond it.

Was Akane dreaming right now, he wondered? And if she was, was she dying again… her eyes, pleading for him to save her?

And did she hate him for not being able to…?

His gaze slowly returned to the ceiling, and rolling onto his back, he tried his best to ignore the knot forming in his stomach.

He was really worried. He didn’t know why, or even what was worrying him—but that lingering feeling, the feeling he got after every nightmare, the feeling that something was about to happen—it wouldn’t go away. And he couldn’t discount these feeling— no matter how silly or absurd they seemed. Not when they concerned Akane.

Feeling restless he sat up.

He wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight.

***

Many hours later, when he was sure she was fast asleep, he snuck back into her room.

Even through the darkness he could still make out the figure of her body, asleep in her bed. With great care, he quietly walked towards her, careful not to make a sound. And then, kneeling beside her bedside, he watched her. Her face was turned towards him, the moonlight streaming in through the window, bathing her features in a soft, faint glow. And her face looked calm—happy even—all traces of a horrible dream absent in her current expression. And he could see the steady rhythm of her breathing, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

Ranma sat that way for awhile, comforted by the familiar motion of her body…

…just watching her breathe….

***

Ranma 1/2 is the property and creation of Rumiko Takahashi and whoever else owns it. I'm not making any money off this so don't sue me. Besides, I'm in college which means I'm broke.

***

She Walks in Beauty

~Part 2~

***

~It brings out the worst in me
When you're not around
I miss the sound of your voice
The silence seems so loud
'Cause there's no one else
Since I found you
I know it's been so hard
You should know

If I die tomorrow
As the minutes fade away
I can't remember
Have I said all I can say?
You're my everything
You make me feel so alive
If I die tomorrow~

-Motley Crue

***

Doctor Tofu’s office was still closed, though Ranma wasn't surprised. It was still early after all, and the sun had barely broken the horizon. His gaze drifted to the slowly brightening sky as he lay down on the rough roof-tiles, resigning himself to a lengthy wait on top of the clinic. Returning to the Tendo Dojo empty-handed had never once crossed his mind; today, he was determined to get an explanation or some kinda remedy for their strange situation. And if anyone could cure them of these damn dreams, he knew it was Doctor Tofu.

There was only one thing stopping him from breaking down the door that very moment: he was still stubbornly, desperately clinging to the belief that nothing was really wrong. Going in there now, raving and screaming like a lunatic about some stupid dreams, would definitely not be the best way to show just how unconcerned he was.

And he wasn’t worried. Not in the slightest.

Well… not really.

He was here today, sitting on top of the roof in the dark and the cold, because of Akane. After all, he couldn’t allow these dreams to continue… her eyes would start to get all puffy and red from lack of sleep, she’d catch a cold or collapse from exhaustion… and he’d undoubtedly be blamed for it.

And if, by some stretch of the imagination, these dreams really did turn out to be something serious, he knew he could handle it. He’d saved her countless times before… one more time wasn’t gonna kill him.

Still feeling uneasy, he shifted his position on the roof, his eyes following various shadows cast by nearby trees. There was a distinct tightening in his chest as he watched them bend and change, and all his earlier concerns seemed to come back with a vengeance: the feeling that something was wrong—seriously wrong—it wouldn’t go away.

But dwelling on that thought, he knew, would only drive him crazy… so instead he forced himself to think of other things—normal, safe things—Kasumi cooking, training with his old man, his mother…

With these thoughts filling his mind he continued to wait for Doctor Tofu to awaken…

But the feeling of impending disaster never quite left.

***

The sound of movement coming from the office below had Ranma up and moving instantly. With practiced ease he jumped to the ground, his feet landing lightly in front of the large, wooden door. There, he paused for a moment… the cool metal of the doorknob resting comfortably in his palm.

He knew why he was hesitating.

Sudden, irrational fear gripped him as he stood there. What if he had only been imagining the sounds he’d heard? What if his impatience had gotten to him and the door was still locked? Should he say to hell with it and break the door down anyway?

After all… there was only so much patience Ranma Saotome could take…

But of course, in the end, his worries were unfounded. When he finally did manage to turn the knob, it did so easily and with no resistance. Grinning over his small triumph, Ranma ignored the sound of the ringing bell accompanying his entrance, and made his way into the clinic.

Doctor Tofu who was busy sweeping the walkway, paused, and glanced up at the unexpected visitor.

“Why Ranma,” he said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early.” Out of force of habit rather than real concern, he began to quickly scan the younger boy’s body, searching for any obvious signs of bruises, scrapes, or cuts. His eyes lingered momentarily on Ranma’s left hand, his expression confused and troubled… but seconds later it was gone. Smiling, he pushed his glasses up, allowing them to rest comfortably against the bridge of his nose. “Is anything the matter?” he asked, looking slightly concerned now that his young charge appeared to be physically unharmed. “I don’t suppose you made Happosai angry again, did you?”

Embarrassed, Ranma looked down at the floor. “Naw,” he said, shaking his head, “no more than usual anyhow.”

The doctor smiled as he leaned his chin on the broom handle. “Then what happens to be the trouble?” he asked. “It’s not often that you come by just to chat, though you know you’re always welcome.”

Ranma shifted uncomfortably where he stood: he had been dreading this moment. All night he had been thinking about what to say, trying to come up with the best way to approach the subject. But now—now that he was actually here—nothing he came up with sounded right. There was just no way to approach this topic without sounding like a lunatic… and for a moment, he regretted letting the doctor sleep when the end result was bound to be the same…

Swallowing nervously, he did the one thing he was good at: threw caution to the wind and said whatever came to mind. “Me an Akane have both been having these weird dreams,” he blurted out, averting the doctor’s gaze. “She keeps dying in all of ‘em, and I can’t save her no matter how hard I try—none of my attacks work, and this shadow monster-thing, it can’t be killed. And every dream ends the same—Akane’s dead, an’ I promise her it won’t happen ever again. But it does, over and over… though we’re a little different each time: our names, appearances, clothes… but I know it’s her, even if her personality’s different, she’s still Akane. And these damn dreams—they won’t stop.” Laughing without humor, he lifted his head to look at Doctor Tofu. “I don’t suppose you’d know why, would ya?”

There. That wasn’t so hard. He felt better already.

That’s when he noticed the concerned expression that was on the older man’s face; and the small bit of relief Ranma had enjoyed from unburdening the truth, slowly drained away. Doctor Tofu promptly leaned his broom against the wall and walked over to the back counter. Taking the coffee pot off the burner, he began to pour himself a steaming cup of coffee as Ranma watched uneasily, unsure if it was a good or a bad sign… the fact that he couldn’t remember another time he’d seen the doctor drink anything other than tea, wasn’t very reassuring.

After another drink, Doctor Tofu set the cup down and glanced at Ranma once again, his face serious. “Dreams, did you say?” he asked, pushing up his glasses as he waited for an affirmative nod. “You said ‘me and Akane’, correct? Does this mean the two of you are both experiencing these dreams?”

Ranma nodded. “Yeah, ever since Jusendou, I think.” Pausing, he watched Doctor Tofu carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see there—a hint of recognition perhaps, or maybe a sign, however small, that he understood what was going on… but to his disappointment, no such reaction occurred.

“Interesting,” Tofu replied as he walked over to a large bookcase that was overflowing with all types of odds and ends—not only books. A strange shaped compass that looked like an egg sat on one shelf and a bundle of scrolls leaned haphazardly against it, seemingly shoved wherever there was room. Grabbing one of them, Tofu glanced up at Ranma and smiled. “Would you mind telling me a little more about these dreams?” he asked, his gaze straying temporarily to the scroll before returning once again to Ranma.

“Well, there ain’t much more to tell really,” he shrugged. Though he tried to sound unconcerned and relaxed, he could tell right away that Doctor Tofu wasn’t fooled. With a smile and a nod of encouragement from the doctor, Ranma began to recount his dreams again… though this time he went slower, careful not to leave anything out. He talked about the first time they occurred—and how surprised he was to learn Akane was having the same ones. He discussed the similarities between their dreams, and he talked about the shadowy creature… and the shadowy man he often saw before it appeared. When he was done, he looked up at Doctor Tofu, his expression hopeful and expectant.

“I’m no expert on dreams, Ranma,” Doctor Tofu began, letting him down gently. “But I do know a thing or two about chi, not to mention the effects it can have on a person’s life force: including dreams.” Turning once more to the bookcase he reached for a particular book and placed it beneath the scroll already in his hands. “From what you’ve told me, I’d gather that you and Akane’s chi might have become unbalanced at Jusendou—although I’m not certain if that alone would be enough to account for the both of you sharing these dreams.”

“Then what is?” Ranma asked, growing impatient. It was hard to believe that these dreams were simply a side-effect of unbalanced chi… though he supposed it made just as much sense as anything else.

“Here,” Tofu said, holding the scroll open so Ranma could see it. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the doctor’s eyes twinkled mischievously behind his glasses as Ranma’s eyes quickly scanned the scroll.

It was a picture of two people standing a good distance apart, a red string floating between them, each end tied securely around their little fingers. Ranma’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he turned to look questioningly at the doctor. “Umm… what does this have to do with my dreams?” he asked bluntly.

Doctor Tofu smiled as he once again rolled up the scroll and placed it back on its shelf. “You do know what that is, correct?”

 

“Sure,” Ranma replied, no less confused. “It’s the red string of fate, right?”

The doctor nodded. “And do you know what the red string of fate is?” he asked.

Ranma paused for a moment, trying to remember. “It’s some dumb string that’s supposed to connect ya to someone else, right? But it’s just a legend,” he added. “It ain’t like it’s real or nothin’.”

Doctor Tofu raised an eyebrow. “It’s not?” he asked, sounding rather amused. Before Ranma could reply, however, he continued. “Two people sharing dreams is a very rare occurrence, Ranma,” he explained slowly. “And those cases which have been reported are normally limited to two people who are extremely close to one another—a pair of twins, for example.”

“Okay,” Ranma replied uncertainly, trying to make sense of this new information. “So… me an Akane are the exception, right? And what does any of that have to do with that string thing, anyway?”

“I can explain that,” Tofu said, smiling as he marked a place in the book he was still holding, “after I see Akane.” Ranma deflated a little, and his shoulders slumped. “Why don’t you bring her by later? I’d like to check on something when I have you both together,” Doctor Tofu added. “In the meantime, I’ll do some research on that shadow creature you mentioned. You never know when something might turn up.”

“Sure,” Ranma said, though his voice was dejected. Secretly, he had hoped Akane wouldn’t have to know about it at all—that the doctor would simply whip up a cure, and that would be that. Slipping it to her when she wasn’t lookin’ woulda been easy, but now he’d be forced to explain everything to her as soon as he got home…

Head down, and hands in his pockets, Ranma exited the office. He racked his brain as he walked; trying to figure out the best way to break it to her. But every scenario he came up with ended with him in a cast, or lying immobile on the ground.

She had been painfully honest with him last night, after all… and he doubted she’d be very happy with him for keeping quiet all that time.

Nope.

He definitely wasn’t looking forward to their next encounter… however painful it proved to be.

***

Being as quiet as possible, Ranma slipped back into the Tendo’s, careful to avoid Kasumi at all costs. The last thing he wanted was to have to answer the eldest Tendo daughter’s innocent questioning of where he’d been all morning. For as tempting as the option was, it was nearly impossible to lie to Kasumi.

And just when he had reached the stairs—safety only a few steps away—he heard it: “Why, if it isn’t Ranma.”

Instinctively, he froze… a new fear rising within him. For a moment he’d forgotten that there was someone much worse than Kasumi. Turning, he forced a smile.

“Hey there, Nabiki,” he said, waving mechanically. "How’s it goin’?” He tried his best to hide his unease, but it was nearly impossible; compared to Kasumi, Nabiki was frightening. She could force the truth out of you, willing or not...

And this time, it looked like she meant business.

The middle Tendo daughter was standing against the wall, arms crossed against her chest. Like always, she wore a calculating look on her face… and it took all of Ranma’s willpower not to turn and run in the other direction.

She knows, a small voice in his head screamed.

How had she done it this time? A hidden camcorder, a microphone, hired spies…?

He gave her several seconds to speak up, for her to list her demands, or else grill him for details and information. But she never did. She remained completely silent, looking at him expectantly.

Partly surprised, and completely relieved, Ranma shrugged. “Well, I’ll be seeing ya,” he said, eager to get away before she changed her mind. Before he had even taken two steps, however, again, her voice stopped him cold.

“Don’t you have something to ask me?”

Ranma paused on the stairs, searching his mind. Aw, crap, he thought desperately. What had he forgotten? She wasn’t gonna make him pay back all that money he owed her, was she? The interest alone would kill him!

That was what he was thinking; what actually came out, however, was an unsure and hopeful, “no?”

Nabiki shook her head as a look of disgust crossed her face. “Suit yourself, Saotome,” she replied, turning to walk away… but not before glancing over her shoulder one last time to throw a warning glare in his direction. “But don’t blame me when Akane gets mad at you for forgetting to buy her a birthday present.”

Ranma froze at her words, his expression one of stunned disbelief. “Birthday?” he said slowly, as if not quite believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. “What birthday? When?”

“Don’t tell me you really did forget,” Nabiki said, rolling her eyes. “Really, Ranma… Kasumi’s only been dropping hints to you for the past two weeks. You really are dense.”

Ranma began to protest, but was quickly cut off.

“Her birthday’s in two days,” Nabiki said, shoving a couple thousand yen at his chest, all business again. “Be sure to get her something nice— it’s her seventeenth birthday, after all.”

Ranma instinctively took the money, muttering his thanks as Nabiki waved over her shoulder. “I’ll be sure to add it to your tab,” she told him. Then she was gone.

Glancing up the stairs towards Akane’s room, Ranma groaned. Great, a birthday… just what he needed. Now he had another thing to worry about.

***

When he told her about his dreams, he thought she’d be upset, or at most, a little annoyed that he tried to keep it from her. But against all odds, Akane took the news surprisingly well. A little too well, in fact... now he knew something was wrong.

“So…” Ranma began uneasily, glancing at his reluctant fiancée from atop the fence as they made their way to Doctor Tofu’s. “You sure you ain’t mad?” He thought he heard an angry growl coming from her direction; ignoring it, he repeated the question.

This time, he knew he heard a growl.

“I already told you I’m not, so quit asking already!” his fiancée all but shouted.

Ranma, rolling his eyes, sighed. “Geez, ya don’t gotta bite my head off,” he muttered, crossing his hands behind his head. “I was just askin’, is all.”

Akane glared back. “Well, maybe if you stopped asking me the same question over and over, I wouldn’t have to bite your head off!”

Ignoring her angry comments, he jumped off the fence and onto the pavement, biting back a retort. Maybe he had gone a bit too far… after all, he knew his fiancée’s temper better than anyone; but he had only been worried about her. And as far as he was concerned, he had reason to worry. Such a calm, indifferent reaction wasn’t normal.

But to his relief, he didn’t have time to dwell on it: he spotted Doctor Tofu’s clinic a good distance down the road. Choosing to ignore Akane rather than make her even angrier, he ran on ahead, leaving her to yell after him as she followed behind.

In the clinic, Doctor Tofu was waiting for them.

Ranma had barely made it through the door before the good doctor appeared before him, smiling broadly. “Welcome back Ranma,” he said, pushing up his glasses as he glanced over the younger boy’s shoulder. The smile on his face seemed to fade for a moment. “Akane’s coming, isn’t she?” he asked, frowning slightly.

That’s when Akane entered the office.

“What did you run ahead for, dummy?” she demanded as she fought to catch her breath. Ranma, for his part, barely noticed. His eyes were glued on Doctor Tofu. For some reason, the moment his fiancée had entered the room, the doctor’s eyes had widened briefly in surprise—surprise which quickly became a myriad of other emotions—some of which Ranma couldn’t even begin to identify. But he had seen confusion in those eyes… uncertainty, denial… until finally, only one emotion remained; something Ranma wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge, let alone accept. 

…Fear.

He glanced at Akane then, searching for anything that might have set the doctor off like that… but she looked the same to him: still an uncute tomboy, through and through. She had a white bandage wrapped around her wrist from when she’d sprained it the other day during a particularly klutzy fall. And she was wearing a flower printed dress—one which he actually thought looked good on her (but would never admit)—and she was biting her bottom lip as she stared at the doctor, watching him curiously, though her expression bordered on worry.

So what had Doctor Tofu seen?

“Are you alright, Doctor?” Akane asked, voicing his own concerns.

At the sound of her voice, Tofu instantly straightened, coughing uncomfortably as he adjusted his glasses. “I’m fine, Akane,” he assured her, nodding absently. As if to reinforce his words, he smiled as he motioned them over to the sofa. “Why don’t you two sit down, I’ll get us some tea and then we can talk.”

Ranma obeyed, though he was beginning to feel a little anxious. This was not how he had imagined this meeting would begin; he had thought Tofu would see them together and tell them not to worry… that his worries were ungrounded. But now, it appeared the exact opposite was true.

Trying to ease his fears, he glanced over at Akane who was now sitting beside him. Her hands were clasped in her lap and she was staring at them silently, deep in thought. For a moment he considered insulting her, hoping to get a rise out of her—to see that old familiar spark, that fire, which she always seemed to exude when she was angry. Funny, how almost comforting it had come to be after so long. And at least that way, he figured, he could reclaim some semblance of normal.

But he never got the chance.

Doctor Tofu didn’t leave them waiting long. Several minutes later he re-entered the room, holding two cups of hot tea in his hands. “Here you are,” he said, handing them to his guests. Ranma and Akane quickly thanked him as they took their drinks; Akane took a polite sip, while Ranma set his cup down on the table beside him… all his attention focused on Doctor Tofu. The good doctor, at that moment, was currently changing the OPEN sign on his entry-way door to CLOSED.

Ranma watched him wearily, his initial sense of dread quickly returning; now the older man was carefully locking the door, mindful of preventing any future interruptions. Only after the locks were secure did he dare re-enter the room. Then, taking a seat directly across from his guests, he lifted his own teacup and took a customary sip.

Ranma was on the edge of his seat by that point, and it took all of his willpower not to grab the other man and start shaking him till he talked.

But to his relief, Doctor Tofu set down his teacup; though the old, familiar smile never appeared. “I’m not quite sure how to begin,” he told them, his voice low with uncertainty. “The best course of action in such a situation, I suppose, would be to come right out and say it. Though I realize that what I’m about to tell you may come as a bit of a shock.” Turning his gaze on Ranma, his expression became serious. “Do you remember what we talked about earlier today?” he asked. “About the red string of fate…?”

Ranma looked uncertain and confused by the question, but answered with an indifferent, “Sure.”

Looking satisfied, Doctor Tofu turned to Akane. “I know you’re familiar with it,” he said with a smile. “When you were little, you told me your mother and father were connected by the red string of fate, which was why they were so close.”

Nodding, Akane blushed at the memory, but said nothing.

When she was younger, her mother had told her all about the legend—about the red string that was supposed to connect you to a very special person, someone who was made just for you. She always said that if you wished hard enough, believed and hoped, then one day you’d find him… just like she’d found their father. Nabiki had always been skeptical of the legend, of course, but both Akane and Kasumi had been quick to believe in it.

Even today, she was almost certain Kasumi still did… though Akane herself stopped believing in the legend after their mother died…

But she couldn’t exactly tell Doctor Tofu that.

Not that he would have heard her either way, she noted, slightly amused. He appeared deep in thought, as if a silent battle were waging in his mind.

“Yes,” he said suddenly, as if remembering why they were all here. “It’s best to just come right out and say it, I think.” Pausing for a moment, he stared at them both in turn, his face becoming more resolute by the second. Even with his glasses, Akane couldn’t mistake the expression on his face—his eyes looked guarded, and his lips were drawn into a thin, tight line. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was preparing for some kind of attack.

Something which made a lot more sense, considering the next few words that came out of his mouth: “You see,” he began slowly, choosing his words with care. “I have this ability… a gift, really: something which allows me to see the red string of fate.”

He paused then… waiting.

Ranma didn’t move a muscle… just stared at him blankly…

Akane, as expected, took the news a little better. She showed some signs of intelligent thought… though she seemed to be torn between confusion and disbelief, both of which she kept alternating between. Her expression was almost comical, and Doctor Tofu had to forcefully restrain a grin as he took a long sip of his tea, patiently waiting for their shock to wear off.

It was expected, after all...

Finally, Akane looked down at her teacup, her eyes glued on the contents within; Tofu doubted very much that her mind was really on the tea. But after several drawn out, awkward minutes, she lifted her head to look at him.

“The red string of fate?” she repeated slowly, uncertainly, searching his gaze. She was looking for anything that would tell her she was right; that he was just joking after all. Or at best, that she’d heard him wrong and there was something else he had wanted to tell them.

But his expression remained the same: solemn and serious.

And although she had never known Doctor Tofu to lie to her before... this—none of it made sense.

“But that—that’s just a legend,” she told him, voicing her thoughts with a shake of her head. “It’s not real. I mean, it can’t be. According to legends, it’s supposed to be invisible, right? So how can you see it…?”

“Right,” Ranma agreed, suddenly, nodding. “’Sides, even if it was real,” he went on, picking up where his fiancée left off, “what’s that gotta do with our dreams?”

Looking apologetic, Doctor Tofu frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers, Ranma,” he told him honestly, eyes down. “In fact, it may turn out that all you’ll get for your troubles is more questions. But one thing I can say for certain is that the red string of fate does indeed exist.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought, and lifting his head again; his voice regained its usual confident edge.

“As to how I came to acquire such a unique gift,” he continued, turning to look back at Akane, “I’m afraid even I don’t know the answer to that question. But it does explain one of the reasons I’m so attuned to chi.”

Running a hand thru his hair in frustration, Ranma groaned. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, albeit reluctantly. “What’s that string thing gotta do with chi?”

“Well, you know that chi is a type of energy that flows throughout the body, correct?” As expected, both nodded. “The red string is an extension of that energy,” Tofu explained, pushing up his glasses. “In essence, it’s connected to a person’s chi. If a person’s energy force is strong, then the string appears bright, and is easy to see. If that person’s chi is weak, however, then their fate line will appear faint as well. Take, for example, your Möko Takabisha,” he said, looking at Ranma. “You have the ability to draw chi from your body and mold it into a type of weapon, something which few people are able to do. In other words, you take your internal energy, and project it outward. The red string of fate is the same way,” he said.

Akane’s eyes widened in understanding, and she leaned forward eagerly, curious despite herself. Ranma, beside her, grinned, taking it all in: chi and martial arts—now those he could understand.

Doctor Tofu went on. “The string of fate looks like a long thin thread of chi that is constantly flowing out of the body. Like legend says, it appears as a red string, of sorts—a string that extends from one person’s pinky to someone else’s. Each person’s line is different,” he added quickly. “Most are actually quite dim and barely noticeable, though I can always see a glint now and then that assures me it’s there.” He paused, seemingly troubled. “And then, there are those whose lines aren’t visible at all. Those are the ones that have either been cut, or have lost the person on the other end,” he finished sadly.

Akane instantly thought of her mother. Had she been right all along, she wondered? And if she was, did that mean her father had become one of those people…? Had his string of fate disappeared after her mother had died?

“So, if everyone has a red string of fate,” Ranma interrupted, sounding confused. “Does that mean we always end up with the person we’re supposed to?” he asked.

Doctor Tofu shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not always the case,” he replied regretfully. “To see a completed string is extremely rare; in fact, I’ve only seen four or five myself,” he explained, suddenly blushing over something only he knew. “But when they are together, the connection and the line become very strong.”

“What about yourself, Doctor Tofu?” Akane asked curiously. “Can you see yours as well?”

Tofu’s face became a bright shade of red at the question, and his glasses began to fog up as a silly grin came over his face. “Actually… you may have noticed that—that, well… I tend to get a little… shall we say, out of sorts… whenever Kasu—Kasumi’s around.” Ranma and Akane tried to mask their amusement as the doctor began to twiddle his fingers shyly at the mere mention of the eldest Tendo daughter. “That’s because,” he continued, blushing deeply, “Kasumi—Kasumi and I are…are… well, connected.”

Akane’s eyes widened and a huge smile spread over her face. “You mean you and Kasumi are tied together by the red string?” she asked excitedly. Doctor Tofu could only nod as he continued to make silly motions with his hands, grinning insanely all the while.

“Well, that explains a lot,” Ranma said, grinning himself. “No wonder he gets so nervous whenever he sees her.”

Doctor Tofu reached for his glass of tea again, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to calm himself with another drink. Once he had regained composure, he set down his now empty cup—most of the tea had spilled onto the floor—and sat up straighter, becoming serious once again. “Now for the reason I asked you both here,” he said, looking intently at the two of them, all traces of the silly, love-struck doctor, gone. “I noticed the red string connecting the two of you the moment I met Ranma.”

Again, he was met by stunned silence and blank stares. Even Akane looked floored this time.

“I can assure you it’s no mistake,” he said, lifting his hands to silence any imminent protests. “It wasn’t as strong as it is now,” he admitted with a smile, “but your connection is unmistakable; even without my ability I could have seen it.”

Blushing furiously, both of their chairs were instantly moved half-way across the room as they attempted to put as much distance between themselves as they could. Doctor Tofu laughed good-naturedly as they quickly began denying any such connection, the words tomboy and pervert being thrown around the room more times than he could count.

Again, he held up his hand, attempting to put an end to their bickering. “These dreams,” he interrupted firmly, his voice serious as he attempted to remind them why they were there. “I think they may be related to the connection the two of you share.” Again, his eyes grew troubled, and he looked at them each in turn. “When Ranma came in this morning, I noticed that something was wrong. Your red string of fate—well, usually it’s bright, one of the brightest I’ve seen—but this morning, it seemed… fainter… somehow.”

“Fainter?” Akane asked, inching closer to doctor Tofu, a hint of worry in her voice. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“When you’re both together the red string of fate is very bright—almost solid. But now,” he said, motioning to the space between them, to a line neither of them could see. “It’s still there, but… it’s weaker, somehow. It’s as if… it’s as if something is obscuring the line.” He paused for a moment, watching their faces.

“It looks like there’s a shadow over it,” he told them softly.

***

They weren’t quite sure how to take the news, nor did they seem willing to bring it up… so their walk home continued to be ruled by silence. Every now and then, however, Ranma found his eyes drifting to his reluctant fiancée.  Akane, like him, seemed determined to avoid eye-contact at all costs: her head was turned away from him, her gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead.

Fine. If she wanted to play the avoidance game, then so would he. After all, he had enough to worry about as it was… his mind was still troubled by everything Doctor Tofu’s had said.

Had he been serious? Were he and Akane… were they really...? Ranma quickly shook his head; willing such thoughts away. It was ridiculous, that’s what it was. All he an Akane ever did was fight. To think that they could—that they were—it was crazy! Laughable, even.

But did she believe it?

Again, he chanced a quick look at Akane, trying to figure out just what she was thinking. Usually, such a task was easy—Akane, despite her moodiness, was normally an easy enough person to read. It didn’t take a rocket scientist, for instance, to figure out when she was angry.

But this time, he couldn’t read anything! Aside from the slight blush he could see slowly spreading across her face, she didn’t look angry… uncomfortable or embarrassed, maybe, but not…

Wait a sec.

She was blushing…?

Ranma, at this, suddenly began to blush himself. He hadn’t realized just how long he’d been staring at her. Immediately he looked away, trying to cover his blunder by coughing uncomfortably. Desperate for a distraction, he turned his attention to the sky instead. By the looks of it, it was growing darker—clouds were disappearing, and the sky was beginning to turn from pink to purple; a sure sign that nighttime would soon be upon them.

…And another night meant more dreams…

Ranma sighed. The Doctor had been right; he did have more questions now than answers.

But on the bright side, at least he an Akane would be able to get some sleep tonight. Feeling the weight of the small bag he was carrying, he smiled. Even if Doctor Tofu couldn’t tell them for certain what was going on, at least he had thought to give them something that would help them sleep better…

…Though it was a small consolation.

He still couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that something was wrong. And it was getting damn annoying.

If everything that Doctor Tofu had told them was true… then what did it all mean? Could that man he had heard in his dream—could he be connected somehow?

And what about Jusendou…? At first, he was convinced that if anything was wrong, it was somehow responsible… but now he wasn’t so sure. And the image of that strange shadow—the one Doctor Tofu had mentioned—he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

…For some reason, that frightened him much more than Jusendou ever could.

Glancing at his fiancée once again, he frowned. She still seemed to be making it a point to ignore him.

Feh, as stubborn as ever…

Looking away, he nodded his head in determination, having come to a sudden decision. Tomorrow… he’d talk to her tomorrow. As much as he hated the idea of such a conversation, he knew they had to talk about it eventually—it couldn’t go on like this.

Again, not speaking a word, they entered the gates of the Tendo Dojo.

***

Despite the convenience of modern medicine, the dreams returned again that night.

***

It was different from before.

Now, the memories came in quick flashes of light, like a camera going off at full speed. And within each flash, an image…

Instinctively, he knew what it was he was seeing. He could clearly remember small, insignificant details: the scent of the place, a sound of long forgotten people—the feel of the image itself—and for a second, he was there again…

…reliving a lifetime in brief, stolen moments.

But there was one flash, one memory, which stood out from the rest.

He saw Emi standing on a flight of stairs, smiling down at him. They weren’t the only people in the room… but it felt like they were. And his body felt glued to the spot, his eyes, his mind—all focused on her. She was wearing a long white dress, one which accentuated every line, every curve of her body, and her long dark hair fell down her back in waves.

She was beautiful, and Daichi couldn’t take his eyes off her.

…He wasn’t the only one…

He knew it with blinding clarity, as if a person had just whispered it in his ear; and with it came other thoughts—thoughts that he shouldn’t have known—couldn’t have known.

It was this day, he suddenly realized.

Whatever happened—whatever they did—it’s what forced Emi to die over and over again; forced him to watch the woman he loved vanish from his life forever. And with it, came the guilt, anger, and self-reproach for not being able to stop it.

But for now, in this moment, it had yet to happen.

So all he could think about was how beautiful she looked, and how much he loved her. Tonight, she was standing beside him—not one of her other suitors—and though he was embarrassed by the added attention, he was undeniably happy.

And alert.

Very alert.

Today, Emi would finally announce who was to be her fiancée. It was a formality, really; everyone already knew who she had chosen. But some still refused to accept it.

For many, losing to the likes of Daichi Satake, was unbearable.

And even though Daichi knew there were enough guards around to handle any one of Emi’s crazy suitors—not to mention his own—he wasn’t taking any chances.

Not tonight.

That’s why it didn’t take him long to notice the strange man across the room—the one who was slowly making his way towards them. He was dressed completely in black and seemed to embrace the shadows, staying closest to the walls, where it was darker. But no matter how hard Daichi tried, he couldn’t make out the man’s face through the thickness of the crowd… though it didn’t take him long to realize why: he was wearing a large, hooded cloak, successfully covering any distinguishable features that would have made him recognizable.

And though Daichi only looked away for a second, when he tried again to locate him, the cloaked stranger was gone.

That’s why it was so surprising when seconds later he heard a low, raspy voice in his ear. Somehow, he knew who the voice belonged to, even before the shadowy man had started to speak.

“It’d be a shame to lose one so pretty. It’s her birthday today, is it not?”

Daichi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, instantly recognizing the unspoken threat. But when he turned around to confront the voice… the man in black was gone.

And so was Emi.

For a moment, he could only stand there, unsure of what exactly had just occurred. He had told her not to leave his side—to let him know where she was going at all times. And he knew she had been standing beside him only moments ago… she wasn’t stupid enough to go wandering around without him—not when there were three or four very angry girls who’d love to see her dead, not to mention a room full of desperate men who would give anything to get her alone in order to try and force her hand.

Glancing around the huge room, he scanned the crowds, frustrated to find that no one was paying attention to him for once—that nobody even seemed aware that she was missing—or concerned, for that matter. And where were the damn guards?!

Somehow, he managed to search throughout the castle, checking in all her favorite places—the kitchen, the stables, the library—the shadowy man’s words echoing in his mind all the while. Eventually, he found himself outside in the garden.

And to his relief, at last, he found her… though the relief didn’t last long.

Emi was lying on a bench, unmoving. Her long white dress draped over the sides of the bench, trailing along the dirty ground beneath.

Slowly, he approached her, his heart beating uncontrollably within. If she was playing a joke on him, he swore he’d never forgive her—not tonight, not when she knew how important it was to stay where it was safe. But the closer he got, the more certain he became that this was no joke.

Usually, by now, she’d be shifting slightly—her body trembling as she shook with barely restrained laughter.

But now… she was almost too still…

His heart pounded in his ears as he ran to her; no longer caring if he fell for another one of her stupid, senseless jokes. He kneeled beside her and gave her body a gentle shake. His long hair that was always pulled into a pigtail fell over his shoulder at the sudden movement—but for once in her life, she didn’t reach up and pull on it.

“Wake up,” he told her firmly. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

But she stayed where she was, breathing lightly —the only thing stopping him from losing it completely.

Then, the raspy voice from before, returned; though somehow, the voice was familiar. “I won’t let you have her,” it said.

Daichi turned around, blue-grey eyes narrowed in fury. “You don’t have much of a choice,” he replied through gritted teeth. Though he was no fighter, he threw his hands into the air, mimicking a fighting stance. Though the intent behind the stance was intimidating… it was largely ineffective. His feet were positioned awkwardly and were too far apart, and his knuckles were braced for only minimum impact.

His opponent laughed. “It seems I have the upper-hand this time,” he said.

 

“Look, buddy. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and honestly, I don’t care… there’s no way I’m letting you touch Emi.” Deciding not to give his opponent the chance to respond, Daichi launched himself at the other man, his fists beginning a clumsy and uncoordinated attack.

The other man avoided them easily, laughing as he side-stepped the harmless barrage of punches. But soon he grew tired of the game, and sweeping his hands through the air in one quick motion, Daichi heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath… and then the stranger stopped dodging altogether.

Daichi quickly grew agitated as he suddenly found his punches going nowhere near their target. Even though the hooded man was just standing there, wide open, none of his attacks were connecting—it was like an invisible shield had suddenly been constructed, keeping all of his attacks at bay.

He was so busy trying to find a way to break through those iron defenses, that he almost didn’t notice the shadowy man mumbling more strange words under his breath—almost didn’t notice the eerie green light that was suddenly forming in his palms, or that beneath the hood he wore, he was smiling.

And for a second, Daichi could only see a huge dark shadow looming before him—not a tall, lanky man in a cloak. And then that huge ball of dark energy left the thing’s hands… and Daichi, seeing it coming straight towards him, threw himself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the blast.

But the girl on the bench wasn’t so lucky.

A strange shadow began to envelope his fiancée, and he could see her struggling for breath. Climbing quickly to his feet, he ran to her, calling her name though he knew she couldn’t hear… and he couldn’t seem to run fast enough, his body felt like lead. The shadow enveloping her was growing larger as her breathing grew shallower… until it looked like she was no longer breathing at all.

But before he could reach her he felt something cold and dark rush past him, and then the cloak the shadowy man had worn suddenly merged with the green shadow hovering over his fiancée. It grew larger and darker then; and almost took on the shape of a man.

Finally the shadowy creature lifted itself off of Emi, and turning to Daichi, smiled. “I was hoping to feed off you,” it said, in a rougher, deeper voice than before, “but the girl will do just as well.” Laughing, it began to grow smaller; Daichi could only stare after it. “Until next time,” the creature said. And snaking itself into a thin, straight line, it seemed to shoot towards him for a moment; but then it was gone.

Behind, a body lay unnoticed on the ground… something Daichi would only become partially aware of after Emi’s body was finally pried from his cold, resisting arms.

But there, the memory ended: the view of the garden began to fade altogether… though he still could hear the taunting words of the creature, echoing all around him.

“…next time…”

And then the quick flashes of light returned, even faster than before; and Ranma was bombarded with images of past lives—all of them eerily similar to the scene in the garden he had just left behind.

Different names, different places… but always them. And they all ended in much the same way.

Emi… she was just the beginning.

***

Ranma was sitting up in bed now, his head in his hands, his heart racing.

Hundreds of years had just passed before his very eyes—and with them, memories, feelings, thoughts—things buried long ago, finally resurfaced.

He saw himself after her death: depressed and lonely as he tried to cope with his loss. Putting all of his anger and grief into training, slowly he started to shift his energy towards revenge. When the time came to protect her again, he wanted to be prepared—and to kill the thing that had taken her from him over and over again.

Daichi was the last and only time he allowed himself to be weak.

But even with all of his preparation, training, and self-discipline—no matter how many techniques, tricks, or spells he found—they were never enough to save her.

It was a blow to his pride, just as much as it was a blow to his heart. In this life, Ranma’s power came from his ability to adapt to a situation and learn from his mistakes. After being defeated by an opponent once, it never happened again.

Now, it was his worse nightmare come true: in a battle that truly mattered—a battle he’d been fighting over and over again, from one life to the next—he still hadn’t won.

Not only had he failed as her fiancée... he had failed as a martial artist. And if the art couldn’t save her… what could?

Akane...

Suddenly he wanted desperately to see her.

Something within him pushed him to his feet. He stood, heedless of the consequences, and made his way to his fiancée’s room. It was strange how he didn’t feel the usual things he did when he reached her door: nervous, embarrassed, hesitant… his overwhelming need to see her outweighed all of his usual fears.

And Akane answered after only one knock.

With a confidence he normally didn’t feel, Ranma easily turned the doorknob, and peeking his head around the door, whispered a quick, quiet, “Hey.”

Akane made no move to show she’d heard him. She was sitting up in bed, head leaning against the headboard, wide awake. For a moment, he wondered if she even knew he was there—not that it really mattered to him. He could see her just as well from here, after all... and that was all he’d really wanted. Just to see her again, if even for a moment, to assure himself that she was really there—that she was still okay.

But finally he saw her shift a little, though to an untrained eye, the motion was barely noticeable. “Hi,” she told him, glancing in his general direction at last.

Ranma took that as invitation enough.

Walking into the room he shut the door behind him, making his way to her bed, guided by the light streaming in through her window. He could see Akane perfectly, despite the darkness; and without a word, he positioned himself at the very end, careful to keep his distance.

He wasn’t sure how much she remembered… and even if he did, he’d still have no idea what to say to her—where to begin. But he knew he had to say something. She was staring at him; her eyes troubled.

“Akane…”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” she said, cutting him off. “What Doctor Tofu said? About the red string of fate…?” She paused then, and her eyes became unreadable. “Ranma… these dreams… they’re real, aren’t they.”

It was more of a statement than a question, really. But Ranma felt compelled to answer it all the same. “Yeah,” he said nodding, his voice low, “they are.” He had known it instinctively the moment he woke up—when all his memories had suddenly returned.

“I see,” she replied just as slowly, her eyes on her bed. She said nothing else; just stared at her comforter, her hands lying prone beside her.

It was… strange. How calmly she took the news. Ranma watched her carefully, his brow furrowed in worry. Waiting…

…Waiting for a reaction that apparently wasn’t coming.

Why the hell was she being so quiet?

The old Akane… she’d be yelling, screaming, kicking, throwing things… doing something! She wouldn’t just sit back and take it, that’s for damn sure.

That kinda reaction… he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been looking forward to it.

It was something uniquely them. Ranma and Akane, fighting, even in the face of an impending disaster.

Not Emi. Not Daichi. Not Ayane or Ryuu, Minako or Katsuro…

No past lives, no hidden agendas, no talking shadows… just two sixteen year olds, engaged by their stubborn fathers against their wills.

And her anger, her stubbornness… those he could handle. But a quiet, sulking Akane… he didn’t know what to do when she was like this. Was he supposed to comfort her? Hold her? Tell her everything would be fine, and to trust him?

Would she still be willing too?

Now he wasn’t so sure. Only yesterday any one of those options would’ve been unthinkable. Now, however, it felt natural to want to touch her… natural and right. But the part of him that wasn’t so brave—that was still unsure of her feelings—held him at bay, and far away at the other end of the bed.

Uncomfortably, Akane shifted positions. “Ranma,” she said softly, suddenly looking up at him. Her beautiful brown eyes were deceptively calm, though it was impossible to miss the fear that was hidden in her voice. “Am I… am I going to die?”

Ranma could only stare back at her, trying to ease the sudden pressure he felt building throughout his body—in his head, his chest, his heart.

His hesitancy, his fear—they instantly vanished the moment he realized she was shaking.

And his arms were around her in seconds.

He held her tightly, desperately; as if afraid she’d vanish. It was painful almost… the intensity of his embrace. But Akane was too overwhelmed by all she’d seen; too much in shock to let him know he was crushing her—if she even realized it herself.

“You won’t die,” he told her firmly, though his voice was close to breaking. “I won’t let it happen again, Akane. You gotta believe me.” Before she had time to reply, he pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes; his hands still around her, his expression, almost pained. “I love you,” he said. “I always have.”

The words came so naturally, so easily.

And then, leaning forward, he kissed her—all traces of the shy, embarrassed boy she’d lived with for the past year gone. His lips were gentle against hers, and she felt herself give in to his touch; the feelings she’d tried to deny for so long, vanishing in the wake of his kiss and the feel of his fingers brushing against her skin.

“I love you too,” she whispered. And with all her heart, she meant it.

***

Later, Ranma would remember what it was he had always overlooked in his dreams—the one thing that had been bothering him since they first began. And though he had tried his hardest to block it out, afraid to face the thought, it came to him the moment he least wanted it too.

In every dream, she died on March 29^th.

The day she turned seventeen…

***

END OF PART 2

***

I’m SOOOO sorry. I really can’t believe it took me this long to get this chapter out! And still, I can’t exactly say I’m happy with how it turned out—to be honest, I just got sick of re-editing it. I seriously rewrote so much of this; I’m just more than ready to get on with the next chapter... so I hope none of you are too dissatisfied with this installment. (I know Akane’s closing line is cheesy as hell, but really, I’m too tired right now to try and make it sound normal).

And I know the end with Ranma and Akane happens kind of abruptly… but considering the circumstances, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch. I mean, they did just get all their memories of their past lives back, and look what happened to Mamoru and Usagi when they remembered theirs?! And Ranma and Akane do have a history together, so I think it’s believable. Though I do wish I would have added a little more to the end… maybe when I get done with Part 3, I’ll go back and add a little more. I just don’t have the energy to do it right now… sorry. L

Oh! And Akane’s birthday… I don’t think it ever mentions when it is in the manga (or the anime for that matter). I searched on the internet to try to find it, and some random site said it was March 29th. I can’t say I really believe it, but the date sounded good, so I used it anyway. But really, that date’s not written in stone… more like, sand… that’s about to be washed away by the tide. And I know it seems like they should be older than 17 by now, but in the manga time never really passes (they stay in the same class, and though certain holidays do occur, no birthdays ever do). So to stay as faithful as I could (which trust me, is hard to do) I just decided to keep them at 16 for continuances sake: though I really wanted it to be Akane’s 18^th birthday, since I liked the sound of that better…

And if the whole flashback scene with Emi and Daichi is confusing, don’t worry, what really happened will be further explained in Part 3. And yes, I know Doctor Tofu suddenly disappeared in the series, but I don’t care. I brought him back anyway. I’ve always liked him, and obviously he played a rather large part in this story. ;)

And really, thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed—I never would have gotten this done without your encouragement… and playful pestering, of course. Hopefully, this chapter didn’t scare you away. If not, I’ll see you next chapter! !

Sodalicious: Okay, I updated, now it’s your turn, lol.

And Vaniah that means you too! ^_^

J