Standard disclaimers apply.
Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi.
All other characters are ficitonal.

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Sometimes I wonder just what kind of a life I lead.  I never really gave 
it much thought until today.  I can't believe Ami's a widow now, and 
with a daughter no less.  Poor Yukiko won't know about her father.  I 
was always close to Ami, and now I feel just as close to Yuki-chan.  It 
hurt so much to see her cry like that.  Yukiko and Ami deserve better 
than that, they deserve a lot better.  If I have anything to say about 
it, they'll never feel that kind of pain again.
I swear this to you both.
-Excerpt from Genjuro Furimashita's log book.


"Life is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you're gonna 
get."
-Forrest Gump
"I hate chocolate."
-Genjuro Furimashita


	Genjuro woke to the sounds of birds chirping faintly in the background, 
a gentle breeze rustling his hair, and the loud droning of a garbage 
truck.  He groaned and pulled the covers over his head.  Even though the 
aroma of breakfast and coffee filled his senses, making his stomach 
growl slightly, the warmth of the covers was more alluring.
	"Otousan, it's time for breakfast!  Wake up!" a voice called.
	Genjuro groaned again as the covers were pulled back.  A hand gently 
shook him.
	"Otousan, it's time for breakfast!  It's going to get cold if you don't 
wake up!" Yukiko insisted.
	Genjuro squirmed back towards the covers.
	"It's a weekend for me," he mumbled.
	"But it's Friday!  I have school and you have to go to work!"
	Genjuro tried to ignore her.
	"Okaasan is going to be really angry if you don't wake up."
	"Big deal.  Your mother's not going to do anything," he mumbled.
	Yukiko gave a cute 'harrumph' and turned to leave.  Genjuro heard her 
take a few hesitant steps before stopping.
	"Otousan, is this a gun?!"
	Genjuro shot out of bed, wide awake and unceremoniously dumped the gun 
he'd been cleaning the night before into a drawer and slammed it shut.
	"Otousan!" Yukiko exclaimed, and quickly turned away, her hands over 
her eyes.
	Genjuro looked at himself, realized he was clad only in his boxer 
shorts and quickly ushered his niece out the door.
	"Thanks to you, I'm awake now," he growled in mock anger.  "Get going!"
	"Hurry up or breakfast will get cold!"
	Genjuro sighed and closed his door.  He was getting too old for this 
business.  It was time his sister and her daughter got their own 
apartment.  He'd spent the past few weeks searching for one that they 
liked, but both insisted on getting one after Ami got a job.  Neither 
liked to freeload in the first place, and to have Genjuro pay for them 
was out of the question.
	He walked into the western-style bathroom and quickly took a hot 
shower.  He looked at himself in the mirror as he combed his hair, a 
slight air of disapproval on his face.
	Still no facial hair, he mused.  I'm twenty-seven and I have no facial 
hair.
	Genjuro scoffed at his reflection and quickly dressed, throwing on a 
white mock turtleneck shirt and a black suit.  He hastily grabbed a pair 
of black socks and made his way to the kitchen.  The odor of frying eggs 
and bacon assault his senses, making his mouth water and stomach growl 
loudly.  As he sat down and picked up the morning paper, his niece put a 
mug of coffee in front of him.
	"Ohayoo-gozaimasu, Otousan," she said, giving him a quick peck on the 
cheek.  
	"Arigatoo," Genjuro replied as he picked up the mug of coffee and 
carefully sipped at the hot liquid.
	She sat down across the table from him, setting down a small plate of 
eggs, toast, and bacon for herself.  The girl frowned in a cute way as 
she brushed a stray lock of long brown hair from her face, tucking it 
behind an ear gracefully.  She pulled slightly on a red ribbon that 
bound her long brown hair into a ponytail, tightening the small bow 
there.  Large, soft brown eyes stared at him for a moment before she 
began speaking again.
	"What are you doing today?" she asked politely.
	"Nothing much.  Just business as usual," Genjuro replied vaguely.
	"You never tell me what you do?  Is it for the government?"
	"You can say that," Genjuro replied with a smile.
	"Yuki-chan, how many times do I have to tell you not to bother your 
uncle like that?" a voice admonished from the kitchen.
	"But it so fun to watch Otousan squirm like that, Okaasan!  I think 
it's funny," she giggled.
	"Hurry and finish your breakfast, you don't want to be late for school, 
do you?" Genjuro asked paternally.
	Yukiko shook her head with a smile and proceeded to devour her 
breakfast with vigor.  Genjuro watched with a smile and shook his head 
as his niece nearly inhaled her breakfast, grabbed a waiting bento box 
from the kitchen and ran out the door.
	"Yuki-chan, your book-bag!" the girl's mother shouted from the kitchen.
	Yukiko scurried in the door to the apartment with an embarrassed grin 
and grabbed the bag by the door before waving and disappearing again.
	"Ohayoo, otooto," Ami said brightly as she exited the kitchen carrying
	"Ohayoo, oneesan."
	She gracefully placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of 
Genjuro.  It was arranged in a slightly less haphazardly way than 
Yukiko's breakfast.
	"Aren't you going to eat, Ami?" Genjuro asked as his sister sat across 
from him sans breakfast.
	Ami smiled gently.
	"I already ate.  I woke up earlier than you as usual," she said with a 
soft laugh.
	Genjuro smiled at his sister as she mimicked her daughter's movements, 
brushing a stray lock of her long brown hair back behind an ear.  She 
reached behind her to untie the apron strings and place the apron on the 
chair next to her.  Ami straightened the white sweater she wore and 
brushed a few stray crumbs of toast from her jeans.  She picked up her 
cup of tea from the table and delicately took a sip of the liquid before 
sighing and placing back on the table.  Genjuro chuckled inwardly.
	Like mother, like daughter, he thought.  They were so strikingly 
similar, the two of them.  The hair, the eyes, the complexion, virtually 
everything down to the cute button nose.  The only real remnant of her 
father that Yukiko possessed was his constant energy.  Everything she 
did was at full strength and top speed.  It was as if Yukiko were 
constantly set in overdrive.
	"I'm sorry that Yuki-chan was bothering you about your job again," Ami 
said.
	Genjuro waved a hand and set down the morning paper.
	"It's nothing," he said with a smile.  "I'd be curious too.  Here she 
is, living in a fairly large condominium in a Tokyo high-rise and she 
has no idea how I pay for it.  It's only natural she ask what I do."
	"Are you ever going to tell her?"
	"That I'm yakuza?  No," Genjuro said quietly.  "I think it'd break her 
heart.  It�s already tough enough that she calls me her father.  I don't 
want to hurt her if I can help it."
	"I've been meaning to talk to her about that, you know."
	"What?" Genjuro asked curiously.
	"That she call you 'Otousan.'  I don't think that's right," Ami said, 
trying to change the subject.
	"She knows we're not married, and she understands completely that we're 
brother and sister.  I don't see what the problem is.  I don't mind 
really," Genjuro replied with a hearty chuckle.  "It actually feels 
pretty good."
	Ami smiled.
	"You're so good to her.  After David died, it was like she really lost 
a big part of her.  She was too young for that sort of thing.  It really 
changed things when you said that you'd be her father."
	"I do what I should for my family."
	Ami laughed.
	"Really?  You spoil her rotten and still teach her to be kind and 
compassionate.  Sometimes I wonder if you're really yakuza."
	"Just because I don't have parts of my fingers missing doesn't mean I'm 
not yakuza.  I might not act like yakuza here, but it's all business 
when the time comes.  I try to make a very clear distinction."
	Ami frowned.
	"You've never told me if you've killed anyone before, Genjuro.  Have 
you?" she asked.
	Genjuro sighed.  This was a very sensitive point for him.  It came up 
infrequently, but when it did, he knew he was walking on eggshells.
	"Never."
	"You swear to that?"
	Genjuro nodded.
	"I've only had to defend myself.  I've never gone out and killed anyone 
in cold blood.  I despise that.  You should know that Ami."
	"I'm sorry, it's just that I get so worried about you when you leave.  
I get anxious that you're going to be sent to do something stupid and 
then never come back again."
	"I promise that will never happen."
	"I really wish you'd get out of this business.  I really don't like it, 
Genjuro.  You had the marks in school to be a successful businessman.  
What happened?"
	"I just didn't feel like it, you know.  I can't explain it," Genjuro 
replied with a sigh.
	"I apologize.  I didn't mean to-"
	"Don't apologize, Ami.  I know that it worries you, and I'm trying to 
do the best I can.  It's tough to just leave the business.  They don't 
like it."
	Ami nodded.
	"I'll be in a position to do what I feel like soon enough.  The boss 
wants to move some operations to Nerima; and if I do well, he might let 
me take care of the business there.  If that happens then you won't have 
to worry anymore."
	"I hope so."
	"Don't worry about me, Ami.  You should worry about Yuki-chan's 
performance in school instead."
	"She's doing fine, Genjuro.  It would help her if you weren't so 
inquisitive about what she was doing in school all the time.  It makes 
her nervous," Ami said with a gentle laugh.  She looked at her brother 
and sighed.  "What am I going to do about you, niichan?  What would 
okaasan think?"
	"If she saw the money I was making-" Genjuro replied with a chuckle.
	"That�s not funny," Ami admonsihed, cutting him off.  "So where is your 
assignment now?"
	"I can�t tell you, Ami," Genjuro sighed.
	Ami simply stared at him.
	"Look, we�ve been over this before," Genjuro pleaded.
	Ami continued to stare sternly, as a sister - like a mother concerned 
for her family.  Genjuro closed his eyes and pryed that nothing would 
come of him telling her.
	"I�m going to Nerima Ward," Genjuro finally relented.
	"Nerima?!" his sister asked in shock.  "Do you know what they call that 
place?  Do you?"
	"Yes, I-"
	"They call that place the Little Devil�s Den!" Ami interrupted.  "You 
could get yourself killed there!  Do you know how many fights break out 
there daily?  Do you?"
	"Ami, I�ll be oka-" Genjuro tried to reassure her.
	"And what do you think you can do against a thousand martial artists, 
Genjuro?  They say the best of the best live there.  What are you going 
to do about it?  I know for a fact you can�t fight like martial artist, 
let alone actually fight a martial artist," Ami said, concern evident in 
her voice.
	"I�ve got my gun, okay?  I�ll have my gun handy," Genjuro replied 
quietly, his eyes closed.
	"Will you?  Will you really be okay out there?" she asked.  
	"I'll be fine, Ami.  I always end up okay."

	Genjuro stared out the windshield of the BMW, staring at a kissaten.  
It was a fairly old one, having been around since Genjuro first joined 
the yakuza years ago.  He idly wondering how long it would take for the 
foreign men to arrive.  Things were becoming tight, and for unknown 
reasons their boss, Osamu Murashima, wanted to buy information.  It was 
slightly odd at a time when things were running so smoothly, but on the 
other hand, nobody wanted to question Osamu's decision.  He was the 
boss, after all, and as the oyabun, he gave the orders.
	"Want a candy-bar, Genjuro?"
	Genjuro looked to the driver's seat at his assigned partner.
	"No thanks."
	"They're really good," his partner said amicably, taking a bite out of 
one.  "You sure?"
	"I hate chocolate," Genjuro replied.
	"Oh well.  That's too bad."
	"Is everyone else outside?" Genjuro asked.
	His partner nodded.
	"Everything's ready, Genjuro.  We just wait for them to come and then 
it's smooth sailing from there."

	Ranma slowly made his way to school, rubbing his jaw.  The punch didn�t 
hurt, he�d gotten used to that.  It was always the food that really got 
him.  His stomach growled for emphasis.
	"Oh man," he muttered.  "Couldn�t she wait �til I had somethin� in my 
gut first?"
	He started counting on his fingers, tallying up the events of the 
morning.
	"Lessee, I woke up to that tomboy�s breakfast," he muttered to himself.  
"An� she even fed Ryouga some of that stuff," he chuckled.  He tallied 
another finger,  "an� then the girls came by," he continued, shuddering 
slightly.  Then things really got wild.  The usual formalities were 
exchanged, of course, and Akane had hit him.  Again.  Ranma closed his 
eyes and smiled.  At least the day hadn�t been a disaster.  He�d gotten 
clear of the fight between the girls once it started, so things could 
have been that bad.  Ranma closed his eyes and strolled the last 
half-block to school, whistling a happy tune.  To top it all off, he 
wasn�t late to school while, as far as he knew, the girls were still 
arguing or fighting.  Today was going to be a good start of the day, as 
far as he was concerned. 
	"Ranma!  Prepare to die!" shouted a familiar voice.
	Rnama stopped and sighed.  Things were really going so well before this 
started, he decided.
	"Whaddaya want now, Ryouga?"
	Ryouga skidded to a halt in front of him, breathing hard.
	"I thought it�d take you longer to find me," Ranma quipped with a 
smile.
	"I followed Akane here," he spat.
	"So what�d I do this time, P-chan?" Ranma asked.
	"Because of you, Akane�s in tears, you�ve dishonored her by not eating 
what she made for you-"
	"Hey man, nobody wants to eat her food, not even her old man!" Ranma 
interrupted hotly.
	"But she made me eat it instead!" Ryouga screamed.
	"It�s not my fault she wanted to prove something!" Ranma huffed.
	"If you�d eaten it, I wouldn�t have had to!" Ryouga shouted.
	"Better keep it quiet, Ryouga.  You want Akane to hear you, hmmm?" 
Ranma taunted.
	"I�ve had enough of this!" Ryouga bellowed.  "I�m sick of your 
attitude!  C�mon and take your punishment!" Ryouga replied angrily.
	
	Genjuro leaned against the side of the wall by the door of the 
kissaten, watching the transaction take place.  He coughed and subtly 
patted the inside of his suit, checking to make sure his gun was there.  
The HK Mk23 was still in the holster, ready for use.  He didn't know why 
he brought it, only that he felt this was going to help him today.  If 
anything happened, the HK SOCOM pistol was going to stop any problems.  
As it was, he didn�t think he�d need it.  Seven men were sitting at 
various tables in the kissaten.  Genjuro leaned against the wall by his 
partner.  One last member of their yakuza group stood behind the 
counter, watching the deal, hands below the counter.  Genjuro eyed the 
six foreigners seated towards the rear of the caf� in the back.  Three 
at the trading table, three around them.
	"I've got this bad feeling," Genjuro's partner muttered.
	"Then go see what's wrong," Genjuro replied.
	His partner moved towards one of the tables to talk to another yakuza.  
The foreigners looked tense.  Some of the younger yakuza looked anxious 
as well.  Genjuro looked at the foreigners and their briefcases.  They 
looked out of place with the chained attach� cases on their wrists.  It 
made Genjuro a bit uneasy, but not wholly nervous.  Something gnawed at 
his stomach, but he couldn�t place it.  He figured it was indigestion 
from the breakfast.
	"It's a double-cross!" one of the yakuza shouted as he suddenly pulled 
back from the table, drawing his gun.  The foreigners looked in the 
briefcase in shock, the documents splattered with purple ink.
	"What the hell-" shouted another yakuza.
	"What were you trying to pull?"
	"It was an accident!  We had no idea-" one of the foreign men replied 
quickly.  "This was not our do-"
	A gunshot cut off all replies.  People in the street screamed as the 
gunshot echoed into the street.  The yakuza and foreigners overturned 
tables and chairs, ducking behind them for cover.  The yakuza behind the 
counter calmly ducked behind it.
	"Damn!  They've got trigger-happy thugs," Genjuro hissed.  He 
frantically pushed a table over and hid behind it for protection, 
pulling a mask over his face.  He guessed it would be over in little 
more than a few seconds.  There were six foreigners, but there were at 
least ten or so of his associates in the room.  Everyone had guns with 
them.  The odds were definitely in their favor.
	The wall at that time decided to explode, and then everything went to 
hell.  Genjuro peeked out from around the table to see two boys coughing 
and fighting amidst the debris and dust.  The occasional gun was fired, 
but everyone was stunned by the huge explosion.  Genjuro took the 
opportunity to put down a foreigner. 
	"What the hell is this shit?!" his partner yelled.
	"Like I would know!" Genjuro yelled back.
	The two boys continued to fight until one was accidentally shot in the 
leg.  As the boy crumpled, the other hopped back a step, bumping into 
the table Genjuro hid behind.  The boy looked down into Genjuro�s 
narrowed eyes, the surprise and shock evident in the younger man.  The 
boy�s face was pale, and for a second, time seemed to stop for Genjuro.  
The boy�s ponytail wavered in the breeze slightly as they stared at each 
other.
	"Who the hell are you?!" Genjuro finally yelled, bring up his gun.
	There wasn�t a response as the boy kicked Genjuro in the chest, sending 
him sprawling into the door and through the glass.  Genjuro scrambled 
for his gun and aimed, but saw him disappear around the corner, dragging 
his friend.  A foreigner suddenly blocked his view, and Genjuro pumped 
three rounds into him and scurried backwards toward the street.  He saw 
his partner scramble out towards the door, only to fall as a bullet 
pierced his back.  Genjuro crawled forward through the shattered glass, 
searching his dead partner�s coat for the keys to the car when automatic 
gunfire filled the air.  
	"Shit!" Genjuro hissed to himself as he grabbed the keys and rolled 
away into the street.  "What am I getting into?" he muttered anxiously 
as he scrambled back to the BMW.  Things were going to hell in a 
proverbial handbasket.  For the life of him, Genjuro couldn�t figure out 
what was going on.  First a double-cross, then the guns coming out so 
suddenly.  It was all too confusing for him.  Something smelled fishy, 
but Genjuro didn�t have time to mull over it.  Time was a critical 
commodity now.  If any word got back to the boss before he could 
explain, things would be bad, very bad.  Things had taken a dramatic 
turn for the worse already, and he feared for his sister and niece's 
lives.  As he painfully sped home, the face of the boy burned itself 
into his memory.


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