Echoes of the Past

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Chapter 6: Alisa

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Despite my charge's groaning and protests, once we reach our home we find the rental truck waiting and manage to start filling it rather quickly. Lifting a desk over my head and grinning at the pigtailed boy as he ducks under one end I smile to myself as I realize that around this young man, despite all the lies I tell him, I can be more true to myself than I've been in centuries.

While I've been had to fight for friends and lovers in the past, never have I been so open about my abilities... and when I was forced to use my vampiric attributes, I've never been pushed to the brink the way I do when I fight Ranma. Taken all at once, he can't force me to use my full strength, speed, and durability... Yet there've been times when he's nearly matched my strength or speed.

I duck obligingly under a couch as Ranma hefts it into the truck with ease, flashing him a grin that mirrors the one he'd flashed me. It's this which surprises me, I know. Every man I've ever fallen for before, they clung to the illusions of my humanity. They let me bring out my vampiric nature when it was necessary to protect our lives, but didn't like me using it so casually as I can use it around my blue-eyed companion.

Even when I've totally unleashed my strength or speed, Ranma has never reacted with fear. I remember a few months after I first took him for my student, he'd stepped onto the street without looking both ways. A drunk driver pulled out from behind a parked car and sped towards the red light, about to run the light and run my young charge down.

I've never moved so fast as I did that night in Hong Kong, nearly teleporting from where I stood admiring a dress in a shop window to a spot between the car and Ranma. Every muscle within me flexed and I shredded my highheel shoes as I dug my toes through the asphalt underneath me, catching the front of the economy car and crushing the front end.

I vividly remember turning to face Ranma, wondering if I'd see fear or revulsion in his eyes. I'd certainly not expected to see unadultered awe on his face when I faced him.

"You gotta teach me to do that," he'd told me firmly, grinning.

"Only if you really think you can learn to do it," I'd told him, not expecting him to ever really be able to do it.

As I've come to expect of him, he found a way.

We load the truck in a mere twenty minutes, packing our favourite chairs or tables, as well as our beds. I've already arranged for someone to drop off my Mazda at the new place and pick up my BMW from our old by the time we hop into the front cab of the rental truck and begin driving.

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The penthouse is mostly barren when we arrive, prompting me to wonder just what the realtor thought I'd been asking for when I'd asked for a fully-furnished place. It has a minimal entertainment suite with a single love seat and a TV nearly as old as Ranma. The master bedroom has a desk and a bed I'd have expected more in a cheap American motel, not a Japanese penthouse rental. The second bedroom has a floor desk and the sort of flat futon most families keep for guests.

Even the kitchen has a table set the realtor probably bought from the Japanese analogue of Ikea.

"Wasn't this supposed to be fully furnished, youba-chan?" Ranma quips from the arch entering into the area I'd been told was the dining room. Joining him at the arch, I see a lot of room and a distinct lack of a dining set. He flashes me a smile. "Look on the bright side, we don't have to move the crap out of the room to use it for practice. And with the fifteen-foot ceiling... It's not bad for a dojo."

"As long as we don't mind losing the deposit," I add dryly, my glance taking in the fragile drywall which lines the room. One good throw from either of us would pretty much guarantee that the money would be gone.

"Tell them they can keep the deposit when we actually get a fully furnished apartment," Ranma snorts, before sighing and eyeing the elevator. "I suppose we should unload that truck so you can take it back, huh?"

"You mean, 'You suppose we should unload that truck so I can leave it for the agency to pick up', right?" I grin.

"Wait, so you get the place to drop the truck off and pick it up, but don't bother getting people to actually move any of our crap from our old place to this apartment?" Ranma demands incredulously.

"Just think of it as strength training, kiddo," I tell him in a sage-like tone.

"Just think of it as you not trusting the jerks doing the moving to follow instructions, you mean," he tells me with a dry look.

"I'm not going to argue with that. Let's go. Furniture needs moving," I inform him.

He grunts in irritation as we move towards the elevator.

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The next day I drop Ranma off at Furinkan, revving the engine of the RX-7 and grinning at the way the poor boy's face goes red. I'm not sure if it's because he has to deal with the spectacle of an attractive blond dropping the big manly man off at school, or... well, it's probably that. I laugh at the indignant look he flashes me as I drive away.

I already have my next destination in mind.

When Ranma mentioned that there was another school which practiced Anything Goes in the area, it sparked a memory of something Genma had written in his journal. After we'd finished moving the furniture up to the penthouse I'd taken a few minutes to myself to check the dog-eared book and see why the name 'Tendo' struck a chord in my memory.

The marriage promise was an unwelcome surprise. One I intended to deal with as soon as possible.

I roared to a stop in front of the Tendo dojo, my eyes tracing the gate.

"To face the owner in deadly combat, please use the rear." Well, that sign was as simple as it got. I pulled my purring red car into a parking spot a short distance away, walking back to the dojo and circling around to the entrance indicated.

I gave the bellpull three short jerks and waited.

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I think the last thing I expected was for a motherly young woman, roughly the same age as I look, to answer my challenge. The subdued house dress she was wearing covered a slim frame, yet the girl didn't strike me as a combatant.

"Oh, are you here to fight Father?" The girl asks politely, gesturing for me to enter. I nod, admitting to myself that wearing designer jeans and a button-up shirt I probably don't strike her as the challenging type. She leads me to a dojo in the backyard, just past a lovely koi pond. Sliding the door to the dojo open, she pitches her voice a little higher as she says, "Father, the challenger is here."

"Show him in, Kasumi," a firm tone calls. Frowning at the assumption, I stride into the dojo. My foe is wearing a brown dogi. He's handsome, in a mature sort of way, the firm lines of his face complimented by a severe mustache and long black hair showing not a hint of grey. He cocks his head to the side. "Young lady, are you sure you're up to challenging me?"

"I'm sure, Tendo-san," I tell him, moving to a space two meters away from him. I bow, not taking my eyes off him. "Anything goes for this fight, fair enough?"

"Fair enough. We fight until a knock out or submission. I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, though," he informs me with a kind smile, bowing as well. As soon as he's upright I'm moving with all the speed I can muster, lashing out to rebound sharply off the wall and stopping behind the surprised man.

"You won't be able to be sorry by the time I'm finished with you," I say with a nasty grin. His daughter has a surprised look on her face, her eyes incapable of tracking my movement but clearly seeing my superior position now.

I'll give Tendo this: When I started speaking, he started moving. His left heel grazes my temple as his right leg flexes, carrying him out of my range. My grandstanding taught him to be wary of me. If he'd committed to the kick instead of playing it safe, he probably would have tagged me solidly in the temple.

Not that such a blow would harm me much.

I'm following him before he lands, and his gaze is grim as his feet plant on the ceiling and divert his jump from where he'd originally planned on landing. Still, I'm able to tag his left flank with a roundhouse kick, causing him to stumble as his feet once again touch the ground. He blocks my follow up flurry of blows, falling onto his back and sweeping my feet out from underneath me in an all-or-nothing bid which I can't help but admire.

Against any foe but me or Ranma, it would have shifted the balance in his favour. As it stands, I plant my hands immediately and straighten my torso, torqueing my waist and delivering a bone-rattling kick to his jaw which bounces him off the dojo floor twice before he flips and skids to a stop inches from the shrine on the north wall.

"It seems I underestimated you. I apologize for that," Tendo admits, inclining his head. I grin in reply. His strength isn't great, nor is his speed. His endurance is laughable... I see the slight concussion in his eyes as we stare one another down. Yet his technique is the equal of Ranma's, if not superior. I can see Ranma improving, were he to learn from this man. "Shall we?"

"We shall," I nod. He knows who's going to win this fight. Already his breathing is laboured and his head is woozy. Yet he still intends to fight on. I can't help but respect that. He is, after all, pushing me to nearly the same effort as Ranma... and that young man has had six years to adapt to me.

Tendo-san has had sixty seconds, and he's done admirably. He can't know that in the time he's fended me off, I could have killed a dozen fully armoured English knights... and the knights were less of a bother than he's proving to be.

I move towards the mustached man, grinning as he grimly sets himself for my charge. My opinion of him increases as he tracks my movement as I leap, echoing his tactic of rebounding off the cieling to change my angle of attack. He shifts to the side and brushes my lead kick aside as I sail towards him.

He doesn't take my strength into account. I grab onto his dogi with a feral grin, wrapping my legs around his torso. My weight shifts as I rotate around him, releasing and throwing him towards the ground. Despite all my impressive strength, I'm still a woman who weighs roughly a hundred pounds. Inertia does the rest of the work, transfering my momentum and more into Tendo as he kisses the tatami mats which line the floor of his dojo.

My estimation of him rises once more as he slowly picks himself up off the floor and flashes me a rueful smile.

"That was a Saotome trick," he informs me bluntly, rising and favouring his injured ribs. He tilts his head. "Clearly you're going to win this match. Perhaps after you've defeated me, you'll do me the favour of explaining how you know those moves?"

"We'll talk about it over tea when you wake up," I agree with a smile.

He launches himself at me as I move. The guts it takes to attempt a strike in his condition raises my estimation of him another notch, and the best I can do is hit his cheek as his fist hits mine. My blow bounces him off the wall of his dojo, while his sends me out the open door and skidding across his lawn.

"Oh dear..." The young woman remarks, eyeing her father critically. She turns to me with a slight frown. "Was it really necessary to hit my father so hard?"

"Submission or knock out," I answer with a small smile, walking towards the dojo and rubbing my jaw. I'm surprised to find I actually felt it. We both enter the dojo to find Tendo slumped against the wall, wearing a smile. I turn to the young woman and offer my hand. "I'm Alisa. Alisa Perne."

"I'm Tendo Kasumi," the young woman replies, taking my hand. "It's nice to meet you, um..."

"Oh, my given name is Alisa," I say after a moment, realizing her confusion. I find myself blushing, of all things, under the understanding smile the woman levels towards me: She could have given Ghandi lessons on peace-keeping. "I sometimes mix up the order of names in Japan."

She proves to be an avid conversationalist as we tuck her father in his bed and go for tea. A small part of me admits that if the other Tendo daughters are this nice, perhaps my reservations about the marriage agreement are pure selfishness.

I quash it, just like I intend to quash the agreement. Nice as these girls may be, they're not me. He's mine.

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Author's Notes:

Whoa. I wrote this chapter in an hour and a half. *blink-blink* I wish I could produce like this all the time. I bet all of you wish the same, don't ya?

Part of my problem right now is that I'm writing in first person present-tense for one story, first person past-tense for a second, third person limited for a third story, and third person unlimited for a fourth. This gets confusing to switch between very, very fast. I spend a lot of time going back and saying "no, no, that's the wrong verb-tense!" right now. Which is awesome, because you KNOW I love arguing with myself over proper usage of verb-tenses. And verbs. And yarerkgtkhgbdbfll.

The more I work on the outline for this, the more it appears that the Ranma-centric chapters are going to be the rarer of the two. I'm doing this for two reasons... For one, I feel that Alisa is really central to the plot here and I feel like most of the action is going to center on her.

For two, I got my fill of writing Ranma's perspective while doing Loss, Hope & Redemption (shameless plug!).