'Til I Wake Your Ghost

"If I walk down this hallway tonight, it's too quiet
So I pad through the dark and call you on the phone
Push your old numbers and let your house ring
'til I wake your ghost..."
                                -Kristin Hersh
                                 'Your Ghost'



The bell over the door tinkles, alerting me to yet another customer 
coming in.  I smooth my floury hands on the dishtowel, thinking if one 
more person comes in, I'll scream.

Keiku looks up from wiping the grill. "If one more person comes in 
here..." He growls.  "Maybe you should go and put up the CLOSED sign."

"Silly."  I glide to him and peck his stubbly cheek.  "I was hoping 
you would do that."  I suppose it's true that if a couple stays 
together long enough, they start to think and even look alike.  Not 
that I would grow stubbly cheeks, of course.  At one time, many would 
assume I would.  But I stopped looking like a man years ago.

Keiku rolls his eyes and lightly slaps me on the rump.  "Go chase the
remaining customers out, will ya?  I want to go home."  The wink he 
gives brings a slight warmth to my face.  What does he think he's 
doing, treating me like a teenage girl?

Speaking of which, the kitchen door swings open and Miyabi, my oldest,
saunters in with a tray of empty plates.  She sees the both of us and
groans, "Oh, come on.  How are we ever going to close if you keep 
playing games in the kitchen?"  Such a tongue on her.  I should 
chastise her for her smart mouth, but what good would it do?  She's 
entirely too much like me.  She even looks like me, except her hair is 
shorter, pulled tight in its chestnut ponytail so that it dangles down 
the nape of her neck.

But ah, there are other ways putting an insolent girl in her place.  I
smile benignly.  "How would you know the games we're playing?  Not 
unless you and Setsuka have been trying to learn them yourselves?  
Maybe it's time for you and me to sit down and discussed these 
'games'."

"Mother!"  My smile deepens as Miyabi flushes and dumps the dishes 
down before scuttling back out front.  She may get her fire from me, 
but her ability to get easily embarrassed comes from her father.  Of 
course, if I ever caught her and Setsuka doing what I just implied, 
I'll knock that boy so hard out of the country, by the time he finds 
his way back she'll be out of college and ready for marriage.  And 
since Setsuka is just like his father, it would take him that long to 
find to find his way back.  Miyabi's a different matter.  She'll be 
sixteen in three months, which means she'll be thinking she's 
eighteen-old-enough-to-do-anything years old.  She's not too old yet 
to still taste the back of my spatula, but she's getting to the
point that when we spar, she gives her mother as good as she gets.  I 
have to do something about that girl.

A muffled snort makes me glance back at my husband, but he has wisely
turned his back and was now cleaning the dishes Miyabi had brought.  
One thing he has learned was not to get in the way of the spats 
between mother and daughter, especially regarding Setsuka.  Keiku is 
rather amused by the young man.  He feels that any boy that can turn 
an ordinary bandanna into a weapon is good enough to protect his 
daughter.  Hmph. If he knew the boy's father, like I do, he'll think 
twice about setting up his daughter with that bullish, idiotic lout.  
For now, he gives me a quick grin over his shoulder.  I roll my eyes 
and push through the still swinging door.

There's not much of the dinner crowd left.  A few couples huddle in 
their booths, talking in low whispers.  A group of youths Miyabi's age 
are playing cards in the corner.  They're trying to eye Miyabi as she 
takes down the order from the newcomer sitting near the cafe's door.  
As I enter, they nosily return their attention to their cards, a few 
glancing surreptitiously at me.  I grace them with one of my pleased 
smiles, and at the same time I idly twirl a mini-spatula I usually 
carry at my side. Their heads immediately duck down.  It feels good to 
command respect so easily on these group of louts.  My children, on 
the other hand...

A quick scan about the room showed neither Daisume nor Kyoto.  I allow
myself a quick scowl.  Most likely, they were outside, playing with 
those bamboo sticks their father cut for them.  It's my fault, I 
suppose, for marrying a man whose skilled in the School of Flinging 
Shish-ka-bob Projectiles, but why did he have to pass the skills on to 
Daisume? I grudgingly admit that Daisume's as good at it as Miyabi's 
good with spatulas, but once I found Kyoto pinned to a tree, the 
skewers piercing through every loose fold of her kimono, my motherly 
instincts kicked in.  I yelled at Daisume never to throw skewers at 
his younger sister again; I don't care if they were playing circus.  
Keiku told me I was too hard on the boy.  For his criticism, I nailed 
him to the kitchen wall with my spatulas and left him there all night.

You know, it's not easy being a martial artist and a loving mother at 
the same time.

Miyabi comes up to hand me the order.  She's looks a little miffed.  
"One special."

"What's wrong?"

She looks behind her and shudders.  "Oh, nothing.  It's just that 
customer kept looking at me funny while I was taking his order."

"Which one?"  I don't wait for her to answer, as I see him slouching 
with his back to me.  I reach for the large spatula I keep beside the 
register for such purposes.

"Motherrrrr..." My daughter groans.  "You don't have to be so drastic 
about it. I can handle it."

Too late.  Motherly instincts, remember?  I stomp towards him, 
noticing the group in the corner have gone quiet, fearful to alert me 
of their presence. How dare this pervert stare at my daughter with 
such hentai thoughts! I'll give him something to look at--

He must have some danger sense, for he sits up as I near.  There's
something about him, something vaguely familiar, but I can't put my 
finger on it.  Then, as he sits up straighter and turns towards me, I 
see...

Oh, God.

The spatula clatters to the ground as I stare in shock.  No way.

And in the back of my mind, a pale wisp stirs, a ghost I thought I had
finally put to rest for--what, fifteen, twenty years ago?

Has it been that long?

He stares at me, his grey-blue eyes nearly filling his face.  He 
looks...he looks so _old_!  Though I don't consider myself as aging 
gracefully, still my mind refuses to believe that weary, heavy man was 
once so vibrant, so full of life...

I whirl around and snap at Miyabi.  "Well, what are you waiting for?  
One special!"

My daughter's eyes widen.  Then she scampers to the kitchen.  Slowly, 
I slide into the booth across from him, at a loss for words, for once. 
He continues to stare at me, just as shocked as I am...wait, of course 
he would be shocked.  He wouldn't expect me to be here.  This isn't 
`Ucchan's'.

Finally, because we can't just sit here gawking at each other all 
night, I breathe his name.  "Ra...Ranma..."

He blinks and slowly nods.  "Ukyo.  My God..."

"It's been..."

"How long...?"

"Years..."

"God..."

We stare at each other.

Finally, he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in a strangely boyish
gesture.  "You must've thought I was some kind of madman.  Sorry to 
get you so worked up."

I muster a smile of my own.  "It's okay."  I glance up as a spinning 
disc flies towards Ranma's head.  I jump...and the plate is resting 
comfortable in his hand.  He didn't even turn around.

For lack of a better word, I can only say, "Wow!"  At least his 
reflexes never waned.

He chuckles faintly as he slides the dish before him.  "Heh, when you 
live the kind of life I live, your senses have to be sharp." He says 
with a hint of old bravado that is quickly doused as he reaches for 
his hip pocket. "How much?  I know with the inflation we've been 
having..."

Gently, I lay a hand on his muscular arm and the ghost within me stirs
more.  "Forget it.  It's on the house.  For old times sake."

Ranma stares at me, then a smile of pure gratitude slowly slides 
across his face.  "Thank you."

I study him as he digs into the okonomiyaki with the same ravenousness 
of his youth.  He has certainly put on a lot more weight.  Most of it 
is muscle, strengthened, I guess, from years of combat.  But there is 
a hint of a paunch from where I can see.  His hair is still pulled 
back in that trademark pigtail of his, but a spattering of grey 
peppers his black hair. His face has chiseled to a hardness that I 
never saw in his teenage years, and a few wrinkles line his forehead 
and crinkles his eyes, eyes that look as though they have seen too 
much of the world.

Eyes that are now looking straight at me, I realize.

I signal to Miyabi to send out three more specials as I say to him, 
"Pardon my words, Ranma, but you look like hell."

"Heh. Do I?  Well, sleeping under a bridge can do that to you.  At 
least the police have no problems with it.  In a sense, I've been 
helping them out--a lot of muggers tend not to stay in the area now 
that I've taken over their territory."

I frown.  "Ranma, what are you doing camping out?  You have a 
perfectly fine dojo..."

"Akane kicked me out a few weeks ago."  Ranma cuts in flatly.  
"Actually, I was the one who wanted to leave in the first place, but 
by that time she had whipped out that mallet of hers and I realized 
that there was no chance I would walk out on my own voluntarily.  She 
wanted to get the last word."

"Oh."  I feel slightly uncomfortable at this, but then again, it 
sounds like something Akane would do.  It wasn't as if she was all 
lovey dovey the last time I saw her.  Lamely, I try to encourage him. 
"Oh well.  Maybe you should let her cool down a bit and then show up 
with flowers or something."

"I don't think that will work.  She's probably downtown this very 
moment, setting the papers through again.  I never thought our divorce 
would be so complicated as our marriage."

"DIVORCE?!"  I yelp, causing a few of the couples to glance our way.  
I send them scurrying back to their own conversations with a dark 
look, then I learn forward and hiss,  "You can't be serious, Ranma.  
After all you've been through...after all the false starts and 
interrupted weddings...you're breaking up _now_?  This is a joke, 
right?"

He bitterly laughs and shakes his head.  "A joke? I've been asking 
myself that for the past few years.  Trust me, it's no joke."

I sit back, too stunned to speak.  After all this time.  The ghost 
inside me grows clearer, bringing back memories of all the times a 
young, headstrong woman and several other love-torn youths tried to 
break Ranma and Akane's engagement, and how the Tendos and the 
Saotomes, and even to some extent Ranma and Akane, endeavored to keep 
it going, despite all the bombs and kidnappings.  They ultimately 
eloped, so none of us would find out.  After all that...it does sound 
like a joke: a very cruel, mean-spirited joke.

"Ranma, what does the rest of the family think about this?"

He shrugs. "Kasumi, of course, is very disappointed; she has offered 
me to stay at her place, but with Tofu around all the time, I'm safer 
beneath the bridge.  Nabiki's off in her own world--I guess being the 
richest woman in Tokyo means little problems like this would resolve 
itself in the end. Soun's the only one who's been so emotional about 
it.  All he does is sits around whining that no one will take care of 
the dojo now that we're separating, meaning there'll be no one taking 
care of him.  Mom's the opposite--she says it should've been done a 
long time ago. I guess being married to Pop made her sympathetic to 
our situation.  Then again, ever since we learned that I may not be 
the only heir to the Saotome school of Martial Arts, we haven't seen 
much of him.  And as for her..."  He doesn't finish, but looks away 
and snorts faintly.

As I puzzle over this, Miyabi comes over and wordlessly lays the three
specials in front of us, glancing at Ranma from the corner of her eye. 
I'm faintly amused--Keiku must have made her bring the order 
personally so she can give him details on this mysterious `hentai 
stranger' her mother is so interested in.  And it looks like she's not 
going to go away, either.

Politely and firmly, I say, "Thank you, Miyabi.  Go help close up."

She pouts and reluctantly obeys.  Ranma watches her go with an odd
expression on his face.  To my surprise, I'm irritated by his look.

"Hello? Eyes front, Ranma."

"Sorry."  He mumbles.  "It's just that--well," he chuckles softly.  
"You know, when I first came in here and she took my order, for a 
moment I had this crazy idea she was you...well, you when you were 
younger. The similarity between you two is rather uncanny."

I beam at her retreating back proudly.  "Well, she should look like 
me. She is my daughter, after all."

Ranma chokes on his second okonomiaki and stares at me with huge eyes. 
It takes a second for him to sputter, "Your...your daughter?!"

"Don't act so surprised, Ranma.  I _am_ married, you know.  Almost 
fifteen years now."

It's his turn to sit back, stunned.  "Ma...married..."

Unthinkingly, I snap, "Well, what did you expect?  Did you think I 
would declare myself celibate and battle waves with my spatula for the 
rest of my life when I learned of your marriage?"

"No.  No, it's just..." he shakes his head.  "I never thought.  It's 
been so long since I last saw you.  I guess--"  He looks straight at 
me.  "I guess I went through all these years with this image of you at 
the back of my head, the image of the headstrong okonomiyaki chef 
hell-bent on making me hers no matter what.  I guess that image of you 
never left, even after you did."  Was that a slight accusation in his 
tone?

"Oh. I see."  I sigh.  "I suppose I should've kept in touch more.  But 
you were the last person I wanted to see when I learned that you and 
Akane eloped.  Once I got over that shock, I vowed never to see you 
again.  I figured your elopement was your little way of saying you 
didn't want me or the others interfering in your life.  So I decided 
to respect that by leaving Nerima."

"You didn't have to."

"Didn't have to? Ranma, did the Tendos tell you what happened when the
others and I learned that the two of you eloped without telling us 
where you went? I believe an `act of God' was used to describe the 
damage done to the dojo rather than the acts of several enraged 
martial artists."

"No, they told me the truth.  But still, Uc-chan," I jerk at the old
nickname.  "I would think you would be the most understanding of the 
bunch. I mean, you were my best friend!"

The ghost is struggling to surface with memories of old, scorned pain
sketched across its surface.  Oh, no.  Not after all this time.  
"Ranma, what's past is past, okay?  I really don't feel like dragging 
old emotions into the daylight again.  If you want to discuss old 
pain, go talk to Ryoga. It would help get his mind off of what's 
happening with him nowadays."

Ranma's eyebrows rise.  "Ryoga?  You mean you've kept in touch with 
him?"

"Oh, off and on." That's a vague way of putting it.  In fact, Ryoga's
probably the only person I keep in touch with from the old days. After 
the Tendo's dojo was, uh, crushed, Ryoga need to go on a long training 
trip to get over Akane and I decided to join him to get over Ranma.  
One thing led to another, and...

It didn't work, of course.  Such things usually don't. Ryoga's a nice 
guy, but I needed someone who was less a mooning idiot when it came to 
love matters.  The 'I-will-protect-you-with-my-entire-life' thing just 
didn't work for me.  We broke up after a year but still traveled 
together as friends.  It's funny but we actually grew closer after 
that, more like a brother/sister type of thing.  And if we hadn't 
gotten lost somewhere around the Pacific, I would've never gotten 
caught by those marauding shrimp poachers, and Ryoga would have never 
have stumbled onto some occultists sacrificing a young woman to 
appease some volcano god, and he would have never joined up with a 
wandering vigilante who so happened to be looking for that band of 
poachers, and they would have never wreaked havoc on that island, 
Ryoga doing his usual thing and that vigilante skewering poachers and 
occultists right and left, Ryoga would have never saved that young 
woman, who so happened to be the daughter of a local chieftain, and I
would have never met that vigilante, who happened to be Keiku.

"You mean Ryoga's now the head of a village?" Ranma shook his head in
disbelief I told him the brief story.  "I never thought he had it in 
him."

"Don't be so quick to discredit him.  He's still the same stubborn 
bull he's always been.  He just thinks before he acts nowadays.  And 
his wife is perfectly suited for him.  She happened to be the best 
tracker of their village, so she always knows where her husband is."  
I smile, thinking of how X'iona managed to track Ryoga here once, and 
the frantic look on his eyes as she dragged him off. "Ten kids, Ukyo, 
and she's ready for another! I don't have that much strength left! I'm 
not a rabbit!!"

I shrug and continue, "I see his son more than I see him.  Ryoga sends 
him here to school to get an outside education.  Unfortunately, he's 
taken a strong liking towards my Miyabi. Not that I don't like the 
kid, but he can be an idiot, just like his dad." I shake my head and 
say, half-jokingly. "Hey Ranma, I don't suppose you have a son? Maybe 
we should engage them like your folks did.  Saves me the trouble of 
looking for a good husband for her."

Ranma snorts as he tucks into the last okonomiyaki.  "Are you kidding? 
I doubt Akane will even allow Hiratsu out of the house now after our 
little `training trip' turned into a failure."

"Training trip?" I repeat slowly, then I slowly sit back as 
realization hits.  "Oh, no, Ranma.  You didn't."

"The boy's a weakling, Ukyo.  I don't know where he gets it from.  All 
he wants to do is sit around and read books all day.  I figured the 
only way to get some spunk into him was to do the `I'll make him a 
man-among-men even if it kills me' thing.  Hey, it worked for me, 
right?"  He laughs bitterly.  "But I forgot that all the springs in 
Jusenkyo were mixed up. Remember Pantyhose Taro?"

I nod dumbly.

"Let's just say that after that little fiasco, my son's become a 
better martial artist, and luckily, he only got splashed a little bit. 
We're still trying to figure out what the hell he turns into.  Some 
type of eagle-horse-mermaid thing with scales and wings. I told him to 
think of it as a weird-looking minotaur. Akane simply told us to get 
out.  It's a good thing I was wise enough not to have a seppuku 
hanging over our heads.  It's all moot anyhow.  Hiratsu won't even 
talk to me, and when he's forced to, it's usually `Oyaji this' or 
`Oyaji that'.  Funny. As much as I detested him, who would've thought 
I would one day turn into my old man?"

I can't answer him.  All I can do is sit back and say over and over, 
"Oh, Ranma..."

And the ghost in the back of my head is becoming more pronounced, that
image of a young man, so cocky and so sure of himself, smiling as he 
mouths the word `Uc-chan'.  To see that image overlaying who is 
sitting before me now... I can't see him like this.  It pains me to 
see him this way.  I look up and my eyes involuntarily falls on Keiku 
at the back of the restaurant, scrubbing down the counter so hard he's 
nearly taking the shine off of it. At his hard expression, the youths 
wrap up their card game and file out, murmuring their goodbyes to me. 
Keiku keeps his eyes fastened on me.  If I were in a more playful 
mood, I would use this opportunity to make him jealous for the fun of 
it.  But the man before me is conflicting with the ghost inside me.

I finally ask.  "So, what will you do now?"

Ranma shrugs listlessly.  "I don't know, Uc-chan."  He sees me wince 
at that name and he hesitates before continuing.  "I guess I'll just 
go back to the bridge and wait until it's over, then who knows.  I was 
thinking of staying with my Mom for a while--we never did get to know 
each other that well.  Or maybe I'll go on a training trip, just to be 
by myself for a while.  It's been a while since I've done anything on 
my own.  Maybe I'll even take a trip to China, see how Cologne and 
Shampoo's doing."  He lapses into an uneasy silence, staring at his 
callused hands lying on the table.  

I wait for the old instinct of denial to take over; along with the 
ghost, I'm certain, comes the old baggage of emotions, jealousy and 
all.  To my surprise, it doesn't come.

The last couple is paying and I realize that the restaurant is closed. 
I stand to my feet, saying lamely. "I wish I could help you, Ranma.  I 
don't know how, though."

"It's okay."  He says as he pulls himself up. There's so much 
bleakness in him.  So much bleakness and unhappiness.  He looks so 
wretched, I want to hold him and tell him everything will be all 
right--firmly, I squash that thought down.

It's a beautiful night, balmy with a hint of coolness.  As I drink in 
the night air, two small forms pounce playfully on my legs, their 
voices piping in the still air.  "Mother, Dai-chan was teasing me!"   
"I was not! Kyo's just being a baby again!"  

"Am not!"  

"Am too!"

"Enough, you two."  Unthinkingly, I rub a smudge of dirt off a 
mischievous face.  "Daisume, I told you to stop teasing Kyoto.  And 
what did I tell the both of you about playing in the dirt?  Go inside, 
the both of you, and help your father close up."

"Aww!"  The two chorus, but they charge inside, giggling and swiping 
at each other.  I smile gently at them until I remember Ranma's 
standing beside me.  In the darkness, I can't tell if the expression 
he wears is bemusement or...envy.

Softly, he says, "Uc-Ukyo, did you ever wonder if, maybe, things
would've been different if you and I...you know..."

For a moment, all I am aware of is the gentle tug of a soft breeze as 
it lifts my hair and rustles the treetops, carrying a subtle scent of 
rain. Behind me, I can hear my children giggling and Keiku's gruff 
voice as they turn closing up the restaurant into a game.  Ranma's 
face is barely visible in the shadows, but he's watching me intensely 
as I strive and strive to match his face with the image of vitality I 
had nurtured all those years ago--that ghost, forever smiling softly 
at the back of my mind.

And I just can't do it.

"I don't know, Ranma."  I turn to stare at the moving branches of the
trees, so I don't have to read his face.  "In another time, perhaps.  
Or maybe not.  I really don't know.  But what I do know is that a long 
time ago, you made the choice to marry Akane.  Not your father, not 
the Tendos. You.  There had to be some reason why you chose her over 
me."  I hear him slightly hiss at the words. I'm rather amazed myself; 
once upon a time, I wouldn't have said these words to him.  At least, 
not this calmly. "It took me a long time to get over you, Ranma, but I 
did. And now," I glance back at the restaurant.  With the lights off, 
Keiku, Miyabi, and the kids are mere shadows moving about inside now, 
but just seeing that causes a warm feeling to glow inside me.  "Now, I 
won't ever change what I got.  They're so precious to me."

There is a long silence.  Out the corner of my eye, I study him as he
stares at the ground.  Even now, I realize, he's still handsome.  At 
this angle, I can almost imagine him taking on the visage of his 
younger self, surrounded by warm, fuzzy light, his eyes glinting as 
his smile lingers softly upon me.  For a brief second, a pang of 
regret cuts into my heart.

"Hey, no big deal. I understand." Ranma finally says.  He looks up at 
me and faintly smiles. "I'm glad your life turned out okay after all, 
Ukyo.  I -- I was worried when I didn't hear from you.  I hope your 
life will always be okay.  If only Akane was as understanding as you. 
Then maybe..."  His voice trails off.

There's a question that's been tugging at me all this time ever since 
we've been talking, but earlier, I couldn't bring myself to ask it.  
Now, as he fumbles awkwardly for something to say, I realize I had to 
know, not for my sake, but for his. "Ranma, do you still love her?"

His head jerks up.  "What, after all the hell she's put me through?" 
he snaps.  "Why should I love that uncute tomboy?"  His voice fades 
and he covers his face with his hands.

Such old words.  But after all these years, I recognize that tone.  
"But do you love her?"  I prompt.

He drops his hands and stares at the pavement for a while.  Then he 
says, in a voice so soft I can barely hear.  "You know, I still do.  
Crazy as it sounds, I still do love her.  God, it's funny.  I'm 
miserable when I'm with her.  I feel even worse when I'm not with her. 
All this year has been one long hell.  Is this how love is supposed to 
be?"

As I try to think up an answer, he waves it off.  "Ah, who am I 
kidding anyway?  It's over, okay.  I just need to go off for a while. 
Hey, thanks for listening to me.  Maybe one day I'll return the 
favor."

He's turning to go.  He's walking away.  Now wait a minute.  Does he 
think he can just walk out of my life just as quickly as he came back 
in?  Who does he think he is anyway?  I'm not about to let him walk 
off like some wounded martyr.

"Hey, you jackass, come back here!  You can't just give up like that! 
The Ranma I know wouldn't just walk away without putting up some kind 
of fight for someone he loves!"

He suddenly whirls and shouts at me.  "You haven't spoken to me for 
twenty years, Ukyo!  You don't know me anymore!  I am not some 
headstrong teenager that goes charging about knocking out every little 
problem with his fists!"

"No, but you're also not an old man who turns into a panda every time 
a problem arises,"  I counter evenly.  "Or decides to go on a sudden 
training trip, leaving their loved ones to face the problem on their 
own.  At least, I hope you're not."

That stops him in his tracks, though he makes no move to come back.  I 
have to walk over to see his head bowed, his hands tightly clenched to 
his side. 

"Sometimes," I hear him hiss.  "Sometimes, I'm tempted to.  God knows 
it would be easier for me to just go, forget everything.  I don't know 
what else to do.  How can I love her, Uc-chan?"  He looks at me, his 
eyes pleading to give him answers.

I open my mouth and shut it.  Might as well tell him what the meaning 
of life is.  How should I know?  I'm only a okonomiaki chef.  I hear 
childish laughter spilling out into the street.  Keiku must be locking 
up.  It causes me to wonder faintly.  Did Ranma and Akane ever feel 
pride whenever Hiratsu laughed?

I shrug.  "I cannot answer that, Ranma.  You'll have to find that out 
for yourself."

I can see the hope going out of his eyes.  "How?  She won't even talk 
to me."

"Is there anyone she can talk to?  A marriage counselor, perhaps?"

"Are you kidding?  We spent all our money completely restoring the 
dojo back to its proper shape."  I wince at that.  Touche, Ranma.  
"There's not that many people we are friends with, usually because we 
were so busy yelling at each or just being away.  No one knows us as 
well as..."

He trails off as he stares at me.  Uh-oh.  I know that look.  It's 
that look that the ghost wears in the back of my mind, the look that I 
would drop whatever I was doing and move mountains with my spatula 
for.  It's the look that first made me fall for him and do anything, 
anything for him. Oh, no, if he thinks he can pull that trick now, 
right under Keiku's nose...

Hell, I'm too old for this.

"Okay, okay.  Tell you what.  Find a place to live other than that 
bridge and I'll see if I can pay a long overdue visit to the 
Saotome-Tendo dojo. I'll find out what she thinks and let you know." I 
waggle a finger in his face.  "But don't think I'm some marriage 
expert or some go-between. This is just to get the both of you talking 
so you can be in the same room without loathing each other.  And I 
definitely won't guarantee that the both of you will get back together 
again.  I think you both have a lot of pain to work out before you 
consider doing that."

He nods solemnly, but his eyes shine at me with hope.  Somehow, that
creates another warm feeling in me.  Strange.  I never thought I would 
be working to get Akane and Ranma together instead of splitting them 
apart.  I can't help but chuckle at the irony of it.  

Before it turns into outright laughter, though, I tell Ranma.  "You 
know, if I'm going to be speaking to Akane, maybe you should be 
finding someone who can relate to you.  Why don't you visit 
Ryoga...I'm sure he'll be eager to see you after all this time."

"Hmm.  Ryoga."  Ranma ponders this, then his face lights up.  "Yeah.  
I guess I can go see what the old pig's up to."

"Pig?  Oh yeah.  You haven't heard.  He got cured years ago from 
that."

"Did he?!"  Ranma's face lights up more, though I doubt it's from 
hearing about his old friend. "Hmm...all the more reason to pay him a 
visit then."

Vaguely, I wonder what would happen if I splash cold water on him now. 
Did he still maintain his `girlish' figure, or would he turn into a 
middle-aged woman with stretch marks, swollen ankles, and increased 
girth in the hip area.  I'm sorely tempted to find out, but I can feel 
Keiku's stare hot upon my back.  I've been conversing with this 
stranger too long for his comfort.  Ranma can feel it, too, because he 
glances over my shoulder and says, "Well...I better take off now.  
Thanks for all you help, Ukyo."  He then lays his hands on my 
shoulders and says, sincerely.  "You're a true friend."

To my annoyance, I find myself blushing.  I brush his hands off and 
say, "It's nothing.  Go on.  Get out of here.  I got lots of stuff to 
do and I can't have you hovering over me.  Makes me nervous."

He gives me a brief hug and walks off, waving.  I turn just as Kyoto 
plows into me.  "Mother, who's that?"

"An old, old friend."  I murmur.  Then, I raise my voice.  "Hey, 
Ran-chan!"

Under a lamplight, he stops and turns, eyebrows raised at the old 
nickname.

"Before you leave town, stop by.  My treat."

He grins and raises a hand.  And for a brief moment, past and present,
ghost and man merge, and he is smiling at me, surrounded by light, 
saying merrily, "Sure, Uc-chan.  I will."

If things have been different...if he and I ever had a chance to get
together...who's to say that the same thing could happen...

As I watch him disappear from sight, a hand drops on my shoulder.
"Uc-chan?"  Keiku says with as much roughness and jealousy he can 
muster.  

I grin coyly at him.  He can be so thick-headed at times.  So stubborn 
and mulish--my smile fades a little as I study his features intently. 
He's built differently--taller, more muscular, no ponytail binding his 
light brown hair, but yes, I can see the faint glimmerings of my first 
love in him, his strength, his stubbornness.  But I can also see what 
attracted me more than the Ranma I first saw in him, his playfulness, 
his openness, his willingness to take on responsibility.  Those traits 
which, I now realize, I had used to paint the ghost at the back of my 
mind with, coloring him with the soft tints of characteristics he 
never had until he became more of a glorification of a man I loved 
rather than the actual man himself.

A ghost of a young man, forever smiling warmly at me, so far away at 
the back of my mind.

Before Keiku can growl any more, I reach up to brush my lips against 
his, and the soft contact sends the ghost scuttling back to the dusty 
domains where it came from.  Keiku pulls back a second, surprise 
widening his chestnut eyes, then he pulls me close, and I drink in his 
warm embrace.

"Excuuuuse me!  We're right in the open here.  People are watching!"

Miyabi's got her hands on her hips, glaring at the both of us.  I turn 
to snap at her, and Daisume cuts in, pointing down the street.  "Hey, 
isn't that Setsuka going into that alley?"

"Ack!  He's supposed to be picking me up tonight!  Setsuka, you're 
going the wrong way, you jackass!"  She takes off into the night, long 
legs flying. Daisume chases after her, whooping and screeching, his 
chestnut hair streaming behind him like a wild colt's mane.  Kyoto 
merely snuggles against my legs, content to stare after the both of 
them with her wide brown eyes.

Keiku shakes his head. "We have to have a talk with that girl."

"It can wait." I slide my hand into Keiku's and whisper in his ear, 
"For now, let's go home."


=====================================================================
Author's notes:

I hope this didn't turn out too depressing. I always wondered if Ranma 
and Akane would have a happy marriage; in my personal view, they both 
had a lot of growing to do, and even then learn how to love each 
other.  Take out the romance, and well, with all the bickerings and 
mallet-poundings, I wonder if they are meant for each other.  But that 
may also be my bleak look on things.

I've always been able to relate to Ukyo, considering she's in love 
with someone who just considers her a friend.  I've seen so many 
fanfics with her going nuts or killing herself, or forever being in 
love with Ranma and staying single, or settling for Konatsu or Tsubasa 
(yecch!).  I still can't decide about her getting together with Ryoga. 
In this fanfic, she somewhat does, but it doesn't work out. She finds 
Keiku instead, a guy who's completely not in the Ranmaverse.  I guess 
she represents my own hope in this area, that somewhere, outside of 
where I am now, there's a Keiku. Here's to hoping.

The title comes from 'Your Ghost' sung by Kristin Hersh.  Other songs
that somewhat influenced this was 'In Love With Your Ghost' by the 
Indigo Girls and 'Living in a Haunted Heart' by Andy Partridge.  I 
love Valentine's Day--don't you?

To give credit where credit is due: All Ranma 1/2 characters are 
creations of Rumiko Takahashi. Keiku, his children, Hiratsu, X'iona 
and her son Setsuka are my creations and you can only use them if you 
ask me nicely (who knows, maybe I'll write a story on Ukyo and Ryoga's 
wanderings, and how Ryoga became chief of his own village. That bears 
looking into ^_^)

And finally, this has been a T-Bone Productions Fanfic: In Touch With 
Yours Truly...

============================================================================
/===\     LaShawn M. Taylor (shonnie@zeus.anet-chi.com)
|^ ^|\    "Hey! Where's the cream filling?!" -Hostess cupcake commercial
 \v/\|    "Life is such unutterable hell, solely because it is sometimes
    |\    beautiful..." -T.H. White "The Troll"
    \|    "You come with steam of breath and caligula's head
          To me so lonesome and longing and so unsatisfied
          Even with all this beauty flooding deep into my eyes."
                                -Poi Dog Pondering
============================================================================