Chapter Text
The Fateful Day came and went in a blur of sharp muscular contractions, terse phone calls, and a light-speed journey in Akane’s arms over the Tokyo rooftops. For a moment, coming down off the anesthetics that had left him blissfully unaware of the specifics of the procedure unfolding inside him, Ryoga stared mutely at his new disfigurement- the smiley-face incision held shut by sutures running across his belly, now deflated and empty. And bare. Only two moments stood clearly in his mind: the moment his tattoo had faded, ink snaking fluidly out of his skin and scattering into atoms, and the moment that his little treasure had been placed in his arms, wriggling and curious, to latch onto his chest by a nurse doing her best impression of an easter island head. As his exhaustion petered off into dreamless sleep, he felt a presence leave the room- one that had become so familiar it was easy to imagine it had always been a part of him- passing satisfied into some other plane.
--
His daughter was beautiful; so was his son- but with Kasuge down for his nap, he focused on Nodoka chasing the squealing toddler around the modest backyard of their new home. Takara was doing her best to hide behind his sheets hanging from the clothesline, and Nodoka, with her hand pressed tightly to her mouth to bite back giggles, was doing her best to pretend she couldn’t see the little girl’s shadow projected clearly against the fabric.
Ranma’s footsteps whispered to his side, her cheek nesting into his shoulder as she pulled herself close around his arm in this rare moment of them both getting to have free hands.
A mew of contentment rolled past her lips.
“Looks like they’re having fun.”
Ryoga nodded, leaning to his head topped hers; hot fudge on her cherry.
“Just wish we had more than this grassy postage stamp for her to run around in.”
An old wound sizzled under Ryoga’s soft smile; if it hadn’t been for him, Ranma’s son would have a dojo and all its grounds to sprawl in, not to mention two grandfathers on standby to fawn over the child when she or Akane needed a break. Ranma’s hand strayed from Ryoga’s arm to his forehead as if taking the temperature of the thoughts swirling inside. His eyelashes tickled her fingers as they slid closed.
“We can take them to the park if they complain. It’s worth giving up for the extra bedrooms. I seem to recall somebody wanting a big family.”
Ryoga turned, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her tight. Being this close to her- sharing her air, awash in the mix of cologne and perfume she still favored, always made his thoughts slippery and smooth.
“I still do,” he murmured, “And I’m grateful. We owe your mother so much… I shouldn’t whine.”
The austere demeanor and bitter edge she had put on for the months of house hunting had worked wonders on realtors and inspectors. To say nothing of the money they had been able to put aside living out of her home for two years. Grandmother and grandchild’s bubbly babbling laughs dashed the memory, warming his mind back to a more positive outlook.
“And a small yard means less chance of the kids escaping by accident.”
“Yes, the kids,” Ranma teased, brushing her lips against his.
--
Ryoga was pretty certain that Akane and Ranma’s honeymoon had been booked in Hawaii. It was hard to tell when they wouldn’t let him out of the hotel room without one or both of them on his arm- not that he could complain about that; the dazzled looks of jealousy on the men who saw him were always icing on the cake of their endless love.
Chuckling, Ryoga abandoned the breathtaking view of the ocean lapping at a black sand beach offered from the suite’s balcony and left his pineapple juice on the dining table. His wives were curled into each other under an ocean of silk and goose down. Their eyes, trained from long years of martial arts and longer months of parenthood, locked onto his motion immediately, causing a millisecond lull in their conversation.
“Do you think we left enough milk?”
“Ranma, it’s fine.”
“I’m just saying, Takara definitely got the Saotome appetite. And Ryoga’s been dryer since he went back to work…”
“Then she’ll get a few bottles of formula. Have another painkiller.”
As the boozy equivalent of a parfait, the cocktail of rum, pineapple and coconut had won Ranma’s favor instantly when offered by a waiter over their first dinner at the resort. Still, she gasped in theatrical shock, arching her back to brace herself away from Akane.
“Mrs. Tendo, surely you don’t suggest that I, a loving mother, should drown my woes about my distant babies with the devil’s fruit punch!”
“Not at all, Mrs. Tendo, “Akane replied, flicking her in the forehead. I know you love them both so much. But Kasumi and your mother are with them. Wild horses couldn’t touch our children.”
Ranma rolled over, tucked the cool soles of her feet against Akane’s shins.
“But it’s been three whole days.” Each word of the terrifying interval came out in a different key.
Trailing an arm over Ranma’s shoulder, Akane’s wry smile was lost on the wife now molding herself to the warm curve of her body.
“I’m starting to think you can’t enjoy a vacation without having a baby with you.”
“Well, if she wants a baby that close at hand…” Ryoga slid onto the bed beside opposite Akane; on top of the blankets, he trapped Ranma tightly in a cushioned cocoon. “I might be able to do something about that.”
Akane grinned, working her hand up Ranma’s bare skin under the covers.
“Give her a new one?”
“Or me. It has been a while…”
Ranma bit her lip, rubbing her thighs together. as their voices hovered closer to her ears.
Her wife’s voice took a mocking edge that set her skin on fire as she commanded Ryoga.
“Oh, you greedy pig. You’ll have to wait your turn if you want me to breed you. It’s our honeymoon.”
And her husband’s voice dropped to that syrupy, brooding register he used when he wanted to extract a promise from her.
“Fine… we’ll do it together. And then me.”
They paused right above her, their hot breath pooling on her neck. The sound of them sharing a lingering kiss, deciding who’d get to breed her first with a battle of tongues, made her quiver. She held her shaky breath. It was too early in the day for round seven, though. They hadn’t even gotten to see the volcano park yet. And there was a martial arts surfing contest right before the resort’s all-inclusive dinner began. It was horrible. Unthinkable. But then, this might be their only time in the states. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut against the paradise they offered, she rammed the nearest train of thought into theirs.
“You sure you want to go through with that? You’ll have to go the full nine months this time!”
There- the heat of the moment steamed away. Her man of honor raised an eyebrow.
“Like you wouldn’t?”
She generously put aside the fact that she had the body to put up with that kind of strain- best to keep the debate pithy.
“I could find that witch you met. Get a succubus brand. Takes two months for them to edit the show after shooting a season. I’d have time.”
“But you had the last one,” Ryoga pointed out, wilting. “Why do you get-“
“Of course, that’s assuming you don’t want to try carrying one,” Ranma added, turning to face Akane.
The remaining lust guttered out behind her coffee-brown eyes, swapped by a short attention span with banter and competition.
“Oh no, watching you two go through it was enough for me. Now, you want someone to father a few kids… I wouldn’t mind putting a son in you,” she purred, leaning in, looming over Ranma, her lips tantalizingly close, agonizingly far.
Ranma’s ruby lips parted gently.
“Are you sure it’d be a son?”
Akane froze, the molten cast of her eyes shifting. She Rolled away from Ranma, all business now.
“Why, did you want a daughter?”
Ranma sat up, pawing her face as she eyed the clock. She’d overcorrected the mood. But if they wanted to wrap it up before it could blow up…
Ryoga threaded his fingers into hers, shrugging.
“I’d want a healthy, happy kid.”
“Well obviously,” Akane blew past the point, scooting her back upright against the headboard, irritated.
“What am I missing here?”
Ranma let out a rattling sigh that seemed to stretch forever.
“Look, it might be dumb to worry about. But… have you ever thought one of our kids might end up… different?”
Akane’s lips pressed into a tight line.
“Nobody’s sprouted a curly tail or horns or anything yet.”
“I ain’t talking about the curses,” Ranma pushed out quickly. “I read this article in the paper that said more kids are changing their gender now. And with this family, the odds of having at least one kid like me aren’t slim, let alone one who ain’t at least bi on toppa that. Are we ready for that?”
“Is that all? I’ll love them no matter what. Like I love you. Like I love Ryoga.”
“But what about everyone else? I don’t want them to hafta fight like we used to. I’m starting to think that wasn’t a healthy way for us to handle things.”
She looked plaintively between her husband and her wife, pain in her eyes. They wrapped themselves around her.
Akane stroked Ranma’s ember-hued hair gently.
“Then we’ll save for a trip to China. Or,” she added, cutting off the retort Ranma’s quick breath had telegraphed, “If you don’t want them messing with magic, we’ll talk to Ukyou. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell our godkids all about how she got their Auntie Natsu fixed up.”
Now Akane’s fingers insinuated their way between the plaits of Ranma’s braid, freeing the hair piece by piece into a smooth stream. Ranma’s eyes rolled back in her head as Ryoga’s hand joined Akane’s.
“No fair,” she breathed, “You know what that does to me.”
“It’s not supposed to be fair,” Akane growled, nibbling on her earlobe.
Ryoga eyed the clock, grimacing.
“We have to get going- the bus up the mountain comes in fifteen minutes.”
“So the goal is ten?” Akane began hopefully.
“Ah, what the hell,” Ranma declared, wriggling until the covers were free to throw over the three of them, “We’ll catch the next one.”
Ryoga closed his eyes and let the mood carry him back to one night in a black forest, when home and family had been distant dreams. And he thanked that witch, wherever she was, for showing him a way out of those dark woods. An oft-repeated impulse scratched his brain, and he ran his thumb over the unblemished skin that had once held the harbinger of a new life.
--
“Breathe in, you’re doing fine.” Ranma assured him, her grip tight on one hand.
“We’ll be with you the whole way,” Akane added, holding onto the other.
The two kids passed out in the stroller added a quiet moral support that the tattoo parlor’s ambience sorely needed. Ryoga bared a toothy grin and nodded at the artist.
“Ok, I’m ready.”
The man scrutinized the design one more time. The garish thing was a swirl of purples and blacks; an embellished heart with stylized wings ending in two blooming roses; the fact that one was deep indigo and the other scarlet was not lost on him as he looked back up at the redhead and the blue-haired girl framing his client. At least it would cover up some of the gnarly, faded scar curled around his stomach.
“Sure thing, boss. Your money. Just sayin’, I wouldnta’ picked it.”
As the needle buzzed to life and burrowed into his skin, Ryoga relaxed and put his head back.
“Said the same thing once. But what can I say. It grew on me.”
Like they were sharing some private joke, the three stared at each other with the dopiest grins. Well, least the guy seemed happy about it. He rolled his eyes. Nerima, man.