A Deal is a Deal.
It was no use, Genma thought morosely, no matter what he did to try and get the boy interested in the art, he just wanted to play around with kittens. So what if the boy was only four, shouldn't he be showing some interest in his family art by now? With a resigned sigh he knocked back his seventh bowl of sake and waved wearily for the waitress for a refill again. Maybe, he thought as he idly pulled his bandanna off his head to mop the sweat off his face, some sort of training trip. The last one had worked out well enough, well, once they'd gotten out of the desert anyway. No more engaging the boy though, he decided, that had been a narrow enough squeak. No, that wouldn't work, he thought, Nodoka just wouldn't accept being separated from the boy again.
As he wiped his forehead he heard the chair opposite him scrape on the tavern's stone floor. Genma did his best not to freeze at the sound; if this was one of his many creditors catching up with him then it was best not to let them know that he knew they were there. He dabbed at his face a couple more times, this time a bit more melodramatically, and prepared to execute the Anything Goes Martial Arts bar-room special technique; the flight of the frantic badger, aka, smash and dash. It wasn't like he had the money to pay the tab he'd run up anyway.
"You look like a man with a problem", a friendly, albeit oddly high-pitched and reedy, voice floated across the table. Genma paused; friendly voices weren't always good news to him after all. Usually it was a conversational "So you think you escaped me Saotome", followed by a nice shriek of "PREPARE TO DIE!".
"Fortunately", the voice continued, "I am a man with a solution".
"Oh really?" Genma replied, making a show of replacing his bandanna and straightening it.
The owner of the voice, now sitting across the table from him, seemed far too relaxed for comfort. That he appeared to be stick thin was not reassuring, nor was the cloak with all concealing hood. The man leant forward, and pushed a fresh sake bowl across the table.
"For a price, naturally".
Strangely that did reassure Genma. Honest help was not something the martial artist was familiar with, but shady deals were exactly what his late and unlamented master trained him for. "What price would that be?" Genma asked. It was better to find out up front what you would be ducking out of before agreeing to it.
"Well, that", the man said, "depends on the problem solved really". He gave a disturbing giggle.
Genma narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "How can you have a solution if you don't know what my problem is? And if you don't know what my problem is, then how do I know can I trust you anyway?"
"Oh I always honour a deal, but as a mark of good faith I'll cover your bar tab". The stranger waved dismissively at one of the wait-staff, who in turn nodded back. Genma watched as she took down his ticket and moved it to another hook, presumably that of the stranger opposite.
It hadn't escaped Genma's notice that the man's skin appeared to be dusted with something sparkling. Still, with a free night's worth of drink, and a possible solution to the problem of getting the boy interested in the art, it seemed like a risk worth taking. He could always weasel out of the debt if worst came to worst. He quickly outlined the problem to the man.
"Ah," he replied with another of those weird giggles, "well that is easily solved".
The stranger laid on the table two items. Genma glanced at them; the first appeared to be a contract of some sort, and the other an instruction manual for some new technique in the art.
"This will solve my problem?" He said dubiously.
"Oh yes. Give the contract to your dear wife and she will let you take the boy for a little training. The book will take care of the little kittens, and give the boy an interest in fighting. Be sure to read it right the way through," the man paused to giggle again, "otherwise I cannot be held responsible for any negative consequences of the technique."
Genma glared at the man; did he think he was a fool? As if Genma Saotome needed to study a book to get a technique. He'd never needed more than a quick glance to learn his own techniques, why would he need to do more than that to teach one. Genma snorted in disbelief, but pocketed both objects. "And your price?"
The stranger made a show of thinking, then gestured theatrically with his hands. "How about your first born daughter s hand in marriage. Agreed?"
Genma could barely contain himself. Don't laugh in his face, don't laugh in his face, don't laugh in his face, he kept repeating to himself. "Agreed, stranger."
"Then until the happy day, I bid thee farewell", the stranger said as he stood, wrapping his cloak around him and vanishing into the crowd. It was then that it occurred to Genma that he had failed to get the name of the stranger. Ah well, not that it mattered. Even if Nodoka could have a second child, he'd be taking the boy the next day if the stranger s contract worked out. The hand of a daughter who didn't exist seemed like the perfect deal to him, one he could fail to fulfil and still keep his somewhat tattered honour intact.
1212312
Twelve years later on a dusty back road in China, an argument was happening.
"Jeez Pops," a pig-tailed boy said to a somewhat older, and balder, Genma, "I don't see why we gotta go back to Japan anyway?"
Genma, whose mind was on a recently posted message to his old friend, replied somewhat testily, "Because we've done all the training in the country that we can. It's time to go back to civilisation boy". And to hot meal and warm beds, he mentally added to himself.
"Ah, come on Pop, just one more stop, please? You gotta know somewhere."
Genma paused. He supposed that one more stop on the road couldn't hurt. The trouble was he genuinely was out of options. As he mulled over the problem he noticed an elderly beggar stumbling down the road towards him, leaning on a stick and with a hood pulled hard down over his face, presumably to keep the heat of the sun off his skin. Not for the first time in his life, Genma decided to see if someone else could get him out of a jam.
"Hey, old man, he called out, know of any martial arts training grounds around these parts?"
The beggar coughed so hard that Genma and the boy both took a step back. "Why yes, yes I do sir. Just follow that path and you ll find the cursed grounds of the Pools of Sorrow".
"What path?" Genma and the boy asked simultaneously.
The old man flailed at the air wildly with his staff, somehow managing to almost pirouette before pointing with his staff and declaring "That's the way you should be going!"
"That s the way we just came, you old fool". The boy scoffed.
"Oh, sorry my young man. How fortunate you could point that out", the beggar coughed out. "I meant that way." This time he knocked aside some underbrush with his flailing, revealing an overgrown and treacherous-looking path. "Yes, my young fellows, follow that path to the cursed training ground if you wish."
"Excellent, thank you old man", Genma said as he turned back to his son, "C'mon boy".
"Uh, Pops, cursed ground? Are you sure we should?"
"I'm sure that is just a legend, right old man?" Genma asked the stick-thin, old-beggar.
"Oh yes, it's as real as fairy-tales", the old man replied with another series of coughs.
"See boy, this er, what was it called again?"
"The Pools of Sorrow, or Jusenkyo, in less poetic language."
"Yes", Genma said to his son proudly, "this Jusenkyo will be perfectly safe". Then he grabbed the back of the boy s shirt and propelled him down the path.
The beggar watched them both disappear from sight, and then broke out into another coughing fit. This time though, the coughs devolved into a series of giggles. Yes, he thought, as real as fairy-tales, or his name wasn't Rumpelstiltskin. He looked forward to collecting on Genma Saotome's debt, after their trip to the Jusenkyo's cursed ponds of course. A deal was a deal after all, and every price had to be paid.