Chapter Four

It was late at night and Ryoga slept in one of the spare bedrooms in Oro Hiroshi's house. But he could not get to sleep because he was bursting with warm thoughts of his father and his mind flooded with all the stories Mr. Hiroshi had told him. The stories reinforced his memories of his father, of how great a fighter he was, and of how he so much desired to be like him when he grew up.

Ryoga loved his father and missed him very much. The bright, yellow bandanna he wore brought him strength, and it was the only thing he had brought with him as a reminder of his father on his long, tenuous training journeys. Without it, Ryoga did not think he could have become the great and powerful martial artist he had become.

It was his father's bandanna when he was growing up, and he wore it during his fights. A week before he died he gave it to Ryoga. He told Ryoga it would bring him good luck. And it served as Ryoga well, acting like a good luck charm as he grew into a man. He never fought without.

There was one time when he was training in the lower mountains of Japan when he thought he lost it. He had taken it off to wash it and let it dry on a rock in the sun as he went swimming in a stream. When he went to retrieve it, it was gone. He searched high and low for it, but he could not find it. Finally he found it. It had fallen down a crack between two rocks and was submerged underwater. That was the first and last time he ever let it leave his sight.

But having the bandanna was nothing like having his father with him. Mr. Hiroshi's stories about his father made all his memories about his father flood back. All the good times he had with his father and all the times he missed out, either because he was not born yet or he was just too young to participate. Now he could relive his father's glory days in his mind, and recall them anytime he wanted. He considered himself fortunate to encounter Mr. Hiroshi here in Nerima, almost as if fate had sent him.

Ryoga opened his eyes and stared out into the darkness of the room. He could not sleep. He lay on a mattress in the middle of the mid-sized room, and the glow of the moon came in from an open, non-curtained window. The room was not furbished, and all that was in there was him, his pack, and what Mr. Hiroshi had given him to sleep on, with.

His mouth felt dry so he got up and left the room to get a drink of water. The upstairs bathroom was down the hallway so he walked barefoot, wearing a pair of night pants and a sleeveless yellow t-shirt, that he always wore to bed. It was a ratty old shirt, but he could not afford to buy new clothes, using all of the money he made doing odd jobs just for food. All he could do was patch it up and hope it was enough.

And just for a second he contemplated staying and becoming a part of Mr. Hiroshi's dojo, to earn some money by entering a tournament he had told him when they had talked, like Mr. Hiroshi and his father had done years before. Maybe it was time to stop seeking what he could not have, trying to defeat Ranma Saotome, and hoping to marry Akane Tendo, to lower his expectations, and settle for something other than what he desired.

No, he was fooling himself. He could never forget about Akane, and he could never forget what Ranma had done to him, for ruining his life by giving him this curse, that of a small, black, drowned piglet, from Jusenkyo.

He visited the bathroom, drank a glass of water, urinated, and then just because he felt like it, ventured downstairs and entered Oro Hiroshi's dojo. Here he had a closer look inside the dojo, turning on the lights. Ryoga smiled at a picture of his father and Mr. Hiroshi in their gi's just after they had won a double-bill match for which they won the joint effect trophy Mr. Hiroshi had shown, and tried to give him, earlier.

And he felt the same as he had when he first said it: that a prize should he earned and not given, or it was not an honor to keep. But he just could not stop from going over and holding it. It was a large, gold plated trophy with a small martial arts figurine on top, performing a high kick. On the plaque it read: Sky Regional Tournament Champions, Taiotasha Hibiki Oro Hiroshi, Tokyo, Japan. They had won it when they were teenagers.

"Reminiscing Ryoga? Or merely fantasizing?" Oro Hiroshi said smiling, and his voice started Ryoga. It almost made him drop the trophy, fumbling it and catching it before it hit the ground. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Ryoga put it back on the shelf where he found it. "Can't sleep?"

Ryoga nodded. "All those stories you told me about my father, they're keeping me awake, but in a good way. I get so excited when I talk about my father. He was my hero when I was a kid and my inspiration now. I'm impressed by all the trophies you won over the years. You must be a really good martial artist."

"I think you have the makings of one too, Ryoga," Oro Hiroshi said. "If only you would focus on your goal instead of being distracted, you could win trophies and winnings like I did. But that's right, you're not interested in this sort of stuff, you're only concern is revenge."

"I've been thinking about your offer to join your dojo, but I don't know, it's not what I want in life," Ryoga said. "And I do have set goals, I just have a different method to achieve them. But maybe it's time I stopped running from my troubles and just face them."

"Now that's the son of the friend I knew, your father would never run from trouble either. But he also knew enough to walk away." Ryoga looked to the floor. "You need guidance and I'm willing to give it to you, to bring what you desire closer to your finger tips. I can help you achieve your goals and make you into a stronger martial artist. But you must make that decision for yourself, I can't force you."

"I know, but I'm not sure. I'm a loner."

"You don't have to be, you can be a part of my family."

"I have a family, my Mother."

"Of course. What I meant was, you can become a member of my dojo and together we can make you the fighter you want to become, and defeat this martial artist you dislike. You need to begin the healing process and let go of the blackness in your heart. You must never use the Lion Roar Shot again as well if you are to begin to heal. I'm telling you this because I can show you a move that's even greater and uses positive energy to attack instead of negative. You're a good kid, Ryoga, and I'd hate to see you live a life of solitude and despair. I'll show you how to bring out the power of your father in you." There was a short pause. "If you'll let me?" And extended a hand of friendship.

Ryoga was almost brought to tears by Mr. Hiroshi's words and shook Oro Hiroshi's hand without hesitation.

"First, show me your martial art skills," Oro Hiroshi smiled thin.

"What here?" Ryoga questioned. "It's the middle of the night, we'd wake up the neighbors with all the noise."

"Not in my dojo."

And all of sudden the front door slammed shut and the window shutter on the far left wall closed with a bang. Ryoga jumped from the noise they made and wondered how Oro Hiroshi did it. Did he use some sort of remote control device to close them? Was his dojo just that advanced?

He looked back to Mr. Hiroshi and noticed a strange smirk on his face. "Mr. Hiroshi, what's going on?" he asked.

An invisible force threw Ryoga from Oro Hiroshi and he rolled backwards to the far wall. He felt his head when he sat upright, looking back at Oro Hiroshi. Oro Hiroshi had changed. He went from a nice, friendly middle-aged man, to something that looked possessed and demon-like. Who was this person? Was this the real Oro Hiroshi?

Ryoga got to his feet. "You're not Oro Hiroshi," he said. "I sense another presence in that body. What have you done with Mr. Hiroshi?"

"He is quite safe, caged in the recesses of his mind until I chose to let him out with no memory of what transpires," the presence that spoke from Oro Hiroshi's body said. "Now, Ryoga Hibiki, show me what you've learned in your years of training, and prove to me you're worthy of being a martial artist. I have fought many warriors who have claimed to be all-powerful, but each one failed to defeat me in battle, and fell at my feet, dead and bloodied. I killed all of them!"

Ryoga got into his offensive stance, ready to fight. "I'm not your typical martial artist, whoever you are. Defeating me won't be easy!"

The presence laughed...

And Ryoga attacked!

To be continued. . .