Ranma and Akane’s situation

“ Oh, my little tomboy! You’re so energetic! Come, give mama a hug! “

“ Wow, Akane! that was so cool! You beat those stupid boys at their own game! “

“ Gee, Akane! You’re nothing at all like your sisters! While they’re cooking and dressing up, you…well….

-Act like a boy!”

I never did mind those comments…hell, I took them as compliments. I loved it when people said that about me… and why shouldn’t I?. After all, it was who I was, who I was destined to be…

I was Akane, and I was a tomboy….. and nothing could changed that.

Nothing but mother’s death, that is.

My mother….

She was so gentle…so graceful…so…feminine.

Everything I wasn’t.

And because of her sweet disposition…they couldn’t let her go. Everyone loved her…everyone wanted her to live forever.

Only I wanted her dead.

I didn’t hate her. I only wanted to give peace and comfort. And even though I was only nine, I knew that the only way she could receive that peace and comfort was for her to leave her stricken shell behind.

But my family…

Their minds were so clouded with grief, that the only thing they could focus on was suffering…both my mother’s and their own. And so It was I who stood in her room when no one else could bear to hear the painful sobs that wrecked her body… And while everyone’s eyes were blinded with tears…mine were dry…because that stubborn tomboy in me refused to cry. For I believed than that to cry meant nothing else could be done. And to me, despite what those doctors said…there was something that could be done, and I had to do it to repay my mother for her love.

So I did the one thing I could have done. For her last three years, I stayed strong. I didn’t cry…nor did I beg her to stay. I only gave her as much comfort and love as I possibly could....She knew what I was trying to do and on her last day she held me face and smiled…

“ My pain is gone now, my little tomboy. “ she whispered in that sweet, gentle voice she hadn’t used since she became ill. “ You can cry now. “ and as she said that, I noticed how healthy she looked than. No longer did she look like that pale and frightened woman I spent most of my days with. She looked like what I remembered her as, a woman of timeless beauty and quiet strength. And as I thought that, the warmth of her hand melted all of my walls, and I began to cry. And when the first few of my tears fell upon her face, she died.

I failed her.