No comments. Just read it and let me know what you think. And the original characters belong to me.
-Randall Flagg2000

Chapter Three: A New Dojo, A New Start

Us, we're just clowns
We just work for the Ringmaster
-Insane Clown Posse

I expect you to entertain him with a unique performance of tricks.
-Legato Bluesummers, Trigun

(1)

Prophecy… One… No social skills… Playing… Sensei will like it…

Ranma could vaguely hear something in the weary darkness that he was in, but not all of it.

(2)

"There it is. We are home."

Gerard looked towards Jiro. "How's your arm?"

Jiro massaged his arm where there was a deep gash. It had bled thickly at first, but now it had subsided to a trickle. His robe had absorbed most of it.

"Yes, it's fine. He would want it."

Gerard shrugged. "Whatever. Let's get him inside."

They walked towards the building, done in traditional Japanese style.

(3)

They opened the door. Two more figures stood within the vicinity of the room, both dressed in similar cloaks to their own. The first one was wide and muscular, and just as tall as he was big. The other was thin and much shorter. Long hair spilled out from under the figure's hood.

"This is the one?" the tall one's voice rumbled. "This is Ranma Saotome? I expected more."

"Now, now, don't be so quick to judge." said the other, the voice clearly that of a woman. "If the prophecy said so, then it must be him."

"All of you leave now." said Gerard. "I'm taking him to his new room." At his word, all of the others backed away. Gerard took Ranma from Jiro and began to carry him down one of the hallways.

(4)

Ranma slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision. The first thing he knew was that his clothes were torn in places and his body ached. Ryouga must have blasted him harder then he thought. Furthermore he was exhausted and fatigued from earlier. His face was still stained where the tears had streaked his face and his hair was tangled. He looked like something that had crawled out of misery itself and was tasting peace for the first time.

Strange; he couldn't remember what had happened after he had met Jiro and that Frenchman Gerard. He had started crying (already he felt the familiar anger beginning to well up inside of him at the memory of that) and then he had fallen into Jiro's arms and then… what? What had happened? And where was he anyway?

It was then that Ranma noticed his room. It was not furnished in the style of the Japanese, but it wasn't fashioned in the way a teenager would design it. It was… like an office of some kind; a psychologist's office. There were plants and ferns hanging off of the ceiling in small pots. There was a fresh red carpet in the center of the room. There were two chairs, one on each side of the room. Both of them were made of leather of some sort. They also appeared to be recliners. In between these two chairs was a small, round table that held random objects-a puzzle cube, a pair of spinning discs with spirals on them, and strangely, a crucifix. But why would a crucifix be-

"Are you okay?"

Ranma turned slowly to face Jiro Tamaguchi again. The man was dressed differently from before. He now wore a plain white shirt which showed the roll of fat his stomach held (Ranma felt disgust at this, he hated men who were out of shape) and plain black pants. Before Ranma could say anything, Jiro spoke.

"Are you feeling better from last night?"

"Well, um, I… guess so." Ranma said slowly. He wasn't fully awake yet and he felt terribly drained, as if a vampire had sucked most of his blood out. He must have really let loose with his emotions last night.

"Where am I anyway?" Ranma asked, scratching an itch on his back.

Jiro smiled faintly. "You are in our dojo, like I said we would take you."

Ranma raised an eyebrow. "What kind of dojo is this anyway? What is the style here?"

Surprisingly, Jiro's smile died a bit. "This is the School of Psychological Martial Arts." he said, with a bit of reluctance.

Ranma raised an eyebrow. The School of Psychological Martial Arts; that name just didn't sound right. Oh sure, he had come across some very strange dojo's in his life (the School of Good Old Day's Martial Arts and the Chardin School of Battle Dining were somewhere near the top of his list.) but this just took the cake. And it just didn't sound very powerful. What kind of martial art used psychology for Kami's sake?

"I can see you doubt us, Saotome." Jiro said. Ranma said nothing to that.

"It's natural for a person such as you to grasp the concept of our art. You're too used to the traditional styles." Jiro didn't sound offended or angered when he said this, strangely.

"What do you mean by that?" Ranma half snarled. "I don't give about psychology. I only care about-"

"-becoming a man?" Jiro interrupted. "Is that all you care about Saotome? Or your honor or perhaps just how you view yourself?"

Ranma clenched his fist. "You've got some nerve speaking to me like that. Just because you've taken me in here doesn't mean you can just treat me however you want!"

"I'm sorry Saotome, but it's all part of your training. You will understand our ways in due time."

"What do you mean by 'training'? I don't need to learn anything from anybody, especially not some guy who looks like a fatter version of my old man in casual clothes with a beard!"

Jiro wanted to slap the boy for making such a comment (being compared to that oaf of a father Ranma had been raised by was quite an insult to him) but he refrained. They needed to hit it off with the boy as quickly as possible and striking him now would throw a monkey wrench in the proceedings. Besides, he couldn't argue with the dojo leaders, especially not… No, that was best left alone. Anybody who questioned him was asking for a horrific fate.

So instead of lashing out, Jiro said calmly "As I said, you will come to understand our ways in time." He held out a tray with a small cup of tea and a small sweet cake on it. "I imagine you must be hungry. Sensei told me to bring this to you."

Jiro set the tray down on Ranma's bed and turned towards the doorway. "I shall return shortly. If you are feeling better, the master said he would like you to meet the other members of the dojo." Ranma considered asking who this master was, but thought better of it. As angry and worn out as he was, he didn't want to be rude to this new person. And where was that other man, that Gerard person?

Ranma began to sip his tea, wondering just what he had gotten into.

(5)

The tea was good. A bit cold, but the tea satisfying nonetheless and made him feel better. The sweet cake was even better. It had a delicious lemon flavor to it that seemed to melt in his mouth and tickle his tongue. He felt a lot better after it was done.

As if he had known when Ranma had finished, Jiro came into the room. "Are you ready Saotome?" he asked.

Ranma stood up. "Yes, I'm ready. I feel much better now." And on the heels of that, he said something he rarely said: "Thank you."

Jiro smiled, and this time it was full and pleasant. "Very well, come and meet the disciples."

(6)

He led Ranma out of his room and down the hallway. Ranma was surprised by the decorations and styles of the room. There were a few Japanese ornaments and portraits, but most of them were portraits of famous psychologists and psychiatrists who had existed throughout time, none of which Ranma knew (or care about for that matter). There were tables with antique vases on them, but not all of them were oriental. There were some French vases, a couple Russians vases, and even a few German ones. There were pots with carefully kept flowers and the floor was dominated by a giant grey carpet which stretched down the hallway like a furry tide of some sort. Ranma had to admit, it was sort of comforting, even if the design was completely foreign to him and his native Japan. But he wasn't going to question the management; the guest accepts what their host or hostess offers them and says thank you. That was the rule of the game, and in this country, you had better play it right.

Ranma noticed that the closer they got to the main room, the more nervous Jiro seemed to become. The man fidgeted with his clothing, stroked his beard, and sometimes when there was a slight sound, would jerk his head with bird like speed in the direction of it as if expecting something to come flying out and cleave him in half with some ancient weapon. Now why would he be acting like that? He studied the art right? Why wouldn't he be accepted here, if that was the case?

Ranma didn't have time to answer the question as Jiro opened the large double doors that led into the main chambers of the room. Three people stood there. Once again, Ranma had the impression that they were wearing hooded robes of some kind. For some reason these robes frightened him and gave off a wave of menace and cruelty, but it was only there for split second. The next moment there were simply three people in the room, dressed in somewhat formal clothes.

Ranma recognized the first one. It was that man, Frederick Gerard. The other two he had never seen before. The first one was gigantic and towered to at least six and a half feet and seemed about twice as wide as a football player. Even under his clothes, which consisted of a gray suit, a white shirt, and a charcoal gray tie, Ranma could see the man's muscles bulging from underneath. His face was powerful and a bit blocky with deep blue eyes which were not oriental in the least. They were rounded and commanding, and when they saw Ranma, they narrowed considerably. His white hair lay was flat on his head in an army crew cut. Ranma had the instant impression that this man could bench press even Ryouga if he wanted.

The other was but a little taller then Ranma himself, with long black hair that flowed down from her head like beautiful silk. Her face, unlike the giant man's, was lean and beautiful. Her lips were a deep red, suggesting she wore lipstick. She wore an open sports jacket and a button down shirt with a deep red tie, similar to Gerard's. Instead of wearing pants however, she wore a skirt that was the same khaki color of her coat. Like Frederick Gerard and the gigantic man, her eyes were not those of an oriental. They were a deep hazel brown, and rounded instead of almond shaped.

Ranma was about to speak when Gerard spoke. "I trust, Monsieur Saotome that you remember me. I am Frederick Gerard of the School of Psychological School of Martial Arts." Gerard punctuated this with a waist level bow, as one would properly introduce themselves in Japan.

The giant stepped forward. His voice had a German accent, but it wasn't as thick as Gerard's French accent and Ranma found it a bit easier to understand him. "My name is Whilem Schwarz of the School of Psychological Martial Arts." he said with a bow. His voice was deep and guttural, almost a dog's growl. Ranma turned to the woman.

"My name is Diana Halikovf of the School of Psychological Martial Arts. It is a pleasure to meet you." Her voice, like the others (not counting Jiro) was Russian. Surprisingly Ranma had no trouble understanding her. Her accent didn't seem to get in the way of her Japanese, she spoke so fluently. And she did look kind of cute.

"Is there anything else you wish to-" Jiro began.

"No, that will be all Jiro. You may go." Gerard said with a wave of his hand.

"Are you sure?" Jiro seemed to be very nervous. "Perhaps I can be of some-"

And suddenly Schwarz was in front of him. Ranma staggered back, astounded. He hadn't even seen the man move! It was just like before in the street when he met them for the first time.

"He moved that fast and I couldn't see him? And he's the half the size of Mount Fuji? That's amazing." And then Ranma felt his flesh crawl as he thought of a new, unsettling thought; "If he can move that fast when he's so big, then what does that say about the others?"

"You were told to leave Tamaguchi. Now get going." the German rumbled. "You should know better then to question your betters."

Jiro gasped and left the room in a hurry. Now why would he act like that? And why the heck was he acting like such a coward? Ranma decided it was none of business-not now, at any rate-and turned back to the disciples of the new dojo.

(7)

"So why is it called Psycholigcal Martial Arts?" Ranma asked, surveying the room which was similarly designed to the room he had woken up in. It was very office like, and soothing, but rather then soothing the soul of the martial artist, this seemed to just bring a feeling of calm over his being in general.It wasn't very befitting for a dojo. Normally they were meant to be intense, or simple looking, not like this.

Ranma had clearly forgotten his manners however, as Gerard gave him a cold stare. "You know, you are being rather rude. You should tell us a bit about yourself before asking about us." he growled.

Ranma glared defiantly at him. "Hey, don't lecture me! Who do you think you-"

Diana interrupted Ranma's tirade by draping herself over Gerard's shoulders like a prostitute hovering over a man she had to work with. "Oh don't be angry Saotome. Gerard can be a little uptight sometimes. Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself and then we will tell you what you want to hear." Her voice was seductive and confident, kind of captivating. She licked her lips and whispered "After all, we believe in fair trade here."

"Diana, stop it!" Gerard hissed. "He is a guest you know!"

Diana pouted over his shoulder. "Oh, I know that dear, but don't you think you should go a bit easier on him? An adult should take care of their children you know." She began to caress Gerard's neck like a snake coiling around a tree.

"I am warning you Diana, get off of me or I will-"

"That is enough." said a voice from behind a pair of double doors. The moment those words were uttered, everyone fell silent. Then suddenly they bowed down on the floor. The funny thing was they weren't bowing on their hands and knees, nor were they sitting in the traditional style. Instead they were kneeling on one leg with their heads bowed and their right hands over their chests, the way the knights of Europe would kneel to their King in the feudal times.

"Why are you kneeling like that?" Ranma asked, and suddenly the doors opened and two people stepped in.

(8)

The two strangers were dressed in identical blue suits with white shirts and dark ties. However, both of them were quite different from one another.

The man in the front was Japanese, beyond any doubt. He was about Ranma's height, with dark green eyes that were gentle and warm, like those of a loving parent or husband. His hair was jet black and parted in a widow's peak in the front. The back of his hair was tied in a samurai topknot which went down to the middle of his back. He was slim, but Ranma could see already the build that the man had under his suit. From how the others had bowed down when his voice had issued forth, it was clear to see that he was the leader.

The man behind him was not of Japanese nation. His hair was also jet black, but it was tied in braids. His skin was brown and he had grey eyes that seemed to leer out at you. He also wore earrings with bird feathers hanging off of them and a small necklace of beads around his necks. From the way he seemed to be sweeping the room with his eyes, Ranma assumed he was the second in command.

"You may rise." said the man with the braids. They all stood up in perfect unison. The Indian sat down and the Japanese man walked towards Ranma.

Before Ranma could speak, the other man did first. "Hello Saotome. It is a pleasure to have you in our dojo." Ranma was entranced by that voice. It was silky, smooth, and beautiful like some fabulous politician. It was the voice of a true leader, of a man who honestly knew what he was talking about. How could he resist such a voice? How could he resist such a man?

"Don't speak Saotome. I want to look you over." And before Ranma could ask what he meant, the man was walking a tight circle around his body, scanning Ranma's body up and down. He would purse his lips every so often, or make a sighing sound, or even give a slight chuckle. Then he wheeled around to face Ranma.

"So you are him. You are Ranma Saotome of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts!" He twittered like a schoolgirl and stepped back to where he had entered.

"Forgive my lack of manners. My name is Kazuki Kitayama. I am the founder and master of the School of Psychological Martial Arts." He bowed with his introduction made.

The other man stepped up. He didn't seem to have a foreign accent of any kind, making it easy for Ranma to understand him.

"And I am James Moonshadow, assistant master of the School of Psychological Martial Arts." Unlike Kitayama's voice, Ranma didn't like the sound of this one. This voice was cold and emotionless, without any pity or mercy. And the way the eyes seemed to be looking over him like he was a statue made him nervous. When Kitayama had looked at him, it was like he was judging Ranma's character. But when this man looked at him, it was like he viewed Ranma as some fabulous new creature for him to study and observe. That and the fact that Ranma could sense a terribly cold wave of Ki emanating from him suggested that there was something more then a cold streak in him. It seemed… evil.

"What's so funny Saotome? Is there something you wish to share?" said Moonshadow, raising an eyebrow.

"I've just never heard of a person with the last name 'Moonshadow' before." Ranma said.

The man smiled. "I should've told you, I'm a Native American. An Indian as others might phrase it; a man born into the remainder of the Cherokee tribe."

Ranma blinked. This was certainly new. For a dojo to have so many members of so many different nationalities was unorthodox to say the least.

"You seem surprised, Saotome. Are you surprised of Moonshadow's nationality?" Kitayama asked, cocking his head to one side like a cat.

"I've just never seen a dojo that took in all sorts of people from the world. I always thought dojo's in Japan only took in members of the same nationality." Ranma shot a bitter glance towards Diana Halikovf. "Not to mention I don't know many dojo who train a girl!"

Surprisingly there was no angry outburst from the young Russian woman, nor did anybody else complain. Instead, Kitayama spoke up again.

"Well Saotome, I judge by potential and not by sex and bloodline. Many would beg to differ in this country, but I believe otherwise, as do my students. A martial artist is a martial artist, no matter whom or what they may be. That is one of our philosophies."

Well that was a new one for Ranma. Sure Akane had been a martial artist in the Tendo dojo, but she had just been trying to cover up the fact she hated being a girl. And that dumb School of Good Old Days Martial Arts? The only reason they had trained that little girl was probably because they couldn't find anybody desperate enough to follow it! They claimed they wanted to preserve the old days of childhood, but Ranma now thought that they just couldn't move on, just like almost every other person in this God forsaken country.

"I suppose your wondering why we are called the School of Psychological Martial Arts, aren't you Saotome?" Kitayama asked. "Well would you like to find out?"

"Find out?" Ranma asked.

"In other words, how would you like a sparring match with one of my students? Pick whichever one you want and they will fight." Kitayama swept his arm out in front of him and called out "Take your pick Saotome! Do you want door number one, door number two, or door number three? Choose and choose carefully, because you only get one!" And the man burst into loud, hearty laughter.

Ranma was a bit put off by Kitayama's behavior-he was clearly an eccentric, although a charismatic one-but he was never one to pass up a challenge. And he was curious about the style of these foreign fighters. What would they use in such a dojo?

Ranma began to look over them all (with the exception of Kitayama), wondering who would be the best choice. The Russian woman; no, definitely not, girls weren't worth his time. They couldn't even keep up with him unless he was in female form.

That German man, Whilhem Schwartz; that wasn't a good idea either, oh no. The man was so tall and so powerful looking that a single blow would probably send Ranma into the land of unconsciousness. And the way he had moved so quickly; that combined with his size made him a very dangerous opponent.

Frederick Gerard, that blonde haired man from France; that seemed reasonable. He wasn't a woman like Diana and he wasn't a giant like Schwartz. On the other hand, Ranma's memory of him on their first encounter made him wonder about him. Gerard seemed on edge and cold. Furthermore his battle aura had flared up a few times without warning and it had been large and powerful both times. Fighting him could be even more dangerous then Schwartz looked.

Suddenly Kitayama chimed "Uh oh, our contestant is out of time! I guess I'll have to choose for him!" Kitayama thrust out his arm and pointed. He began to point at the disciples one by one, chanting some rhyme as he went along.

"Eenie, meenie, minie moe. Catch a fighter by the toe. In the ring they then must go. Eenie, meenie, minie…"

And suddenly his finger thrust out at Gerard and he yelled out "Moe! You are it, Mister Frederick Gerard! Step forward!"

Gerard did as he was told. He was grinning cruelly, his eyes alight with fervency.

"Shall we go mon cher?" he asked Ranma. Ranma could only nod his head in agreement. And before he knew what was happening, the disciples were rising and Kitayama was pointing to the double doors he had entered from with James Moonshadow.

"And their off to the fights! Let's hope these two enjoy themselves with their prize! Oh I know they will!" Kitayama giggled like a child at his own joke as everybody except for Moonshadow began to walk down the hallway to the training hall.

"Man, what a strange group of people." Ranma muttered. "But I can't really argue with them. They did take me in."

Ignoring all that was going on behind him, Ranma continued onward.

(9)

When he was sure they were gone, James Moonshadow sat down in a chair that was nearby. His face was as stern as ever.

"Do you really think this will work Sensei? Do you think this one will help us achieve what you have wanted for so long?"

Kitayama smiled warmly. "Oh I assure you James, this will work out according to plan. He doesn't have any social skills whatsoever. All through his life, he was only to be a man, can you believe it? There's nothing wrong with training your children in the ways of your dojo, but to deny them all pleasures and force them to follow only the dojo is inhuman! I don't know why he didn't just run away earlier!" He emphasized his last sentence with a dismissive sweep of his hand.

"Well he finally broke. Gerard and Jiro Tamaguchi had to help him break, but it worked. He won't go back to them anytime soon."

For the first time, Kitayama's face hardened. "Jiro Tamaguchi; I don't trust that man. He hasn't been as devoted as the rest of you have been to me, and he's very nervous. I get the feeling that he hasn't quite got his heart in it." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't know why I took him in. Maybe I just felt sorry for the poor sap."

"Well, you gave us all a new life Sensei. You filled in the void that would have consumed us had we not met you. You helped us leave our native countries and come to this beautiful place." replied Moonshadow. "You gave us purpose."

"Yes, I guess I did." Kitayama said with a smirk. "I guess I did just that."

Moonshadow closed his eyes and suddenly his clothes rippled as if seen through a heat haze. When it stopped, his clothes had been replaced by black robe with a hood that Ranma would have recognized by now.

"But now we have but only to put the final piece into place. Do you still wish to go through with it?"

Kitayama stood up and his clothes began to transform too. Only instead of a black robe, his clothes became a robe the color of blood with the hood thrown back. He was grinning terribly.

"I shall go through with it. Once you set your mind on something, you should always stick with what you're doing until the very end." He draped an arm around the Native American's shoulder. "Stick with me to the end and you'll get everything you wanted."

Moonshadow smiled in gratitude at his master.

There was a star pentagram on the back of Kitayama's robe.

END OF CHAPTER THREE

I don't have much to say. You probably have some questions about this chapter and how the story has gone so far, and those questions will be answered in due time. But you'll just have to wait and see! Bye bye!
-Randall Flagg2000