Heavenly Sword Of The New Age
Disclaimer: I do not own either of these series.
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--------------------Chapter
01
The young boy sat on the lush hillside,
watching anxiously as the line of red sank below the western horizon. This would
be perhaps his final dusk here, and he knew well the pain that leaving behind
those he had grown to love would bring to his young heart - a heart that had
known only the unthinking cruelty of his father for more than four years. The
boy did not turn away though, when the upper rim of the flaming sun disappeared
below the horizon. He accepted the darkness, as he would soon accept his father
back into his life, a fitting symbol he thought.
The moon climbed higher and tears rolled out of the boy's gentle cobalt eyes. He
would miss this place, in all of his fourteen summers of life on earth, he had
never been so happy as he had been in his four year stay at this place. This
latest period of his training journey had been the most intensive to date. At
first, the boy had found this surprising; he had believed his father was a
highly skilled martial artist with extremely effective training methods.
He had been naïve.
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--------------------4 years previous
Ranma sighed, shifted once more into the first stance of his new kata, and from
habit glanced at the area around their temporary home, littered with empty sake
bottles, to be sure his father was still there.
He was.
Not for the first time, he peered north into the hills, squinting. Brushing
unruly jet-black hair aside with one hand, he kept his fingers raised to shield
his blue grey eyes, trying vainly to see the abode of the mysterious samurai the
townspeople spoke of. As always he could see the faint bluish haze that marked
the heresawa falls, but no more.
Ranma longed to meet the mysterious sensei, but this was one of the many things
he knew not to bring to the attention of his father, if they were to go there it
would have to be his father's idea. So he continued to go through the motions of
his kata, and waited for Genma to awaken, perhaps today would be the day that
his father learnt of the local legend.
Still, he was not satisfied. He was thinking of this later that morning when he
felt a presence in the campsite. He looked up but saw no one. The area was
deserted and yet he could not get it out of his mind that someone was there. He
stood up and was about to call out when he thought it might again be somebody
that his father had wronged in the past, so kept quiet, not wanting to give the
old man any degree of warning.
Rapidly, his assessment changed. While he was quite certain now that someone was
there with him, it also came to him that this person meant him no harm. How he
had come to this conclusion he could not have said; it was, rather, a purely
automatic response.
Light spilled into the corner of the lot, touching the edge of the clear-
lacquered wooden fencing, leaving in dense shadow the corner beam. He was
watching the pattern of light and shadow when a voice said, "Good day,
Ranma."
The corner shadow had come to life, a figure stepping out of its concealing
pocket, into the light. He was a thin, slight man, his stiff bristly hair
already grey streaked. He had eyes that never appeared to move, yet took in
everything at once. He made absolutely no sound as he came down off the fence
line to stand in front of Ranma, who, bare to the waist, felt tongue- tied.
He had met the man when they had first arrived in town, he had seen the two of
them sparring and had come to watch the spectacle, and at least twice a week for
the last month the old man had come to watch the two train. He had barely said
three words to him since he had come to the lot. Now they were here together,
and Ranma understood enough to know that the meeting was not accidental.
He saw the man eyeing him, and his comatose father, then the man stepped
forward, his outstretched forefinger touching the purple and blue bruise just
beneath Ranmas left eye, one of many. Seeming to be angered by its presence the
man made his way over to the boy's father, and slapped the unsightly man awake.
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Genma awoke with a start, and still only half
aware, lashed out at the visitor. Luck was not with him though, and the old man
easily sidestepped the clumsy lunge, unnaturally quick. After a few moments,
Genma seemed to gain his bearings, well, enough to focus on the man before him
anyway. At first confused, Genma peered intently at the visitor for a few short
moments, and seemed to find something he liked, a lot, if the smile that
blossomed on his face was any indication.
Grinning, Genma suddenly starts, "You would be Souijiro Seta I take
it".
Seemingly disinterested the man replied, "And you would be the man that has
been making inquiries, specifically asking for directions to the 'martial arts
master' said to reside in the surrounding countryside, the one that even your
former master, Happosai, was wary of."
"That's right", Genma returns, and then demands "I want you to
train the boy", with this he points to Ranma, and seemingly having nothing
to add, waits for the response.
"I have met many a man such as yourself, Genma Saotome, and know that the
only thing you consider of true value is your own life." He pauses then,
takes a moment consider the request, "And so, I will take on the boy as my
student, yet he is to remain in my care for four years, in witch time you will
have no contact with him, should you attempt to see him I will kill you on
sight. If this is unacceptable you may challenge me now, and should you win, you
may set your own terms, any you like. However, should you lose, you will abide
by my terms, and not come within a hundred kilometres of this place for the set
time period."
Genma seemed torn, but his stubbornness soon overcame his common sense, and
taking up a seemingly awkward stance, agreed.
After a moment of thought, the old man adds, "Very well then, let us begin.
As you are the challenger you may call the start of the fight." With this
the old man just seemed to relax, he took up no recognizable stance at all.
"Hajime"
All of a sudden, his father's body started to shimmer, like snow on a television
set. It was very strange, and suddenly without warning, disappeared. It was not
to be however, as without warning, Soujirou appeared perhaps six metres behind
Genma previous position, and Genma, once again visible, flew back like he was
shot out of a cannon. The man quickly overtook Soujiros position, and finally
came to rest slumped against the perimeter wall, completely unconscious.
Peering closely at his beaten father, ranma could see that he was covered with
thousands of shallow cuts, and he had a huge bruise on his face, the mirror of
that found on Ranmas own, only twice as large.
It was incredible.
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Satisfied with the outcome, Souijiro allows
himself to smirk at the man, it was not the vacant smile of his youth, but
genuine amusement, an emotion that at one time, he had thought he would never
feel. After a few minutes he turned toward his new student, and slowly made his
way over to the boys side. Placing a hand one of the young boys shoulders, he
began to speak, in a calm reassuring tone of voice.
"My name, as your father stated, is Souijiro Seta, and though I practice a
large variety of hand to hand styles, my primary focus in the martial arts is
the sword." He paused here for a few moments and takes a few deep breaths.
"I have no professional standing, yet as you have seen, I am of no small
skill, for a number of years now I have been searching for an heir to my
fighting style. The problem with this is that my style requires the user to have
natural talent, and in this time of peace there are very few born with the
skill, and certainly none in a farming area such as this. Come now, your father
will not awaken for another hour, we can get some lunch while we wait for him to
rise, I am sure that you are hungry."
And that was what the pair did. Ranma was treated to the largest meal of his
young life, and spent the time telling his new master about his training to this
day. What styles he had been introduced to, some of the methods his father used,
and strangely, his views on a lot of other things. He felt free to discuss
things with Souijiro he would never tell his father. All to soon the time had
come to go, and the pair made their way back to the garbage-strewn campsite.
Genma was now in a seated position, clutching his head; he seemed to sense their
approach, as when they came through the opening in the fence line he quickly
sprang to his feet.
He seemed to debate with himself for a while, looking to try and go back on the
terms. Soujiro seemed to come to the same conclusion, and rested his hands on
the sword hilt that seemingly appeared from nowhere about his waist. Genma
noticed too, and started to chuckle nervously.
-This is not good- thought Genma, -four years is a long time, and my influence
will disappear. Well there is no help for it, Soun old buddy, it seems I will be
visiting earlier than expected-. His mind made up, Genma packed his things, and
not bothering to say goodbye to his son, or even acknowledge his presence, left.
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The dismissal was hard on Ranma, but it was
something he had come to expect from his father, so he could bare with it.
Glancing from the side of his eyes at Souijiro, he felt that maybe, just maybe,
his life had taken a turn for the better.
Souijiro let the boy have few moments to himself, it must have been hard on the
young child, then looking around at the state of the lot, decides a lesson on
responsibility is in order. And so for the following hours the two gathered all
of the rubbish together, and placed it within an industrial bin behind the towns
main store, it was thankless work, but necessary, and looking upon the clean lot
after they were done gave Ranma a clear feeling of accomplishment.
Gathering the boys pack, and after a final look around the now bare lot, the
two, master and student, made their way leisurely out of town, it was the
beginning of something new for the boy, and he found that very exciting
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--------------------present day
His father was nothing more than completely self absorbed oaf, he let his own
son starve, and taught him only as much of the art as he found necessary,
nothing more, whenever it looked as if Ranma would get the upper hand in a
fight, he would pull a dirty trick just so he would come out on top. Well,
things would be different now, he had a new perspective on life, his father
would learn that bushido, honour, had real meaning. And he was just the one to
teach it to him.
--------------------To be continued.
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