Chapter 3
Master Thief and barfighter!
Ranma Searches for Zakaroth.
Disclaimer: Oops! Forgot to add this before. Ranma 1/2 and all of it's characters belong to the wonderful woman who created them, Rumiko Takashi. Sailor Moon and all of its characters belong to, well, I don't know their name but it belongs to them. Zakaroth and Gray dragon belong to me.
A few days later, under his normal training routine, Ranma had come to Hiroshima. According to his itinerary, a powerful martial artist named Zakaroth had been causing trouble around the place, getting into bar fights and stealing money and treasures from the local populace. Zakaroth was very good at stealth, and the only distinguishing marks the police were able to obtain, were that he had hair the color of night, around five foot nine, and what he claimed to be his name. Of course, it helped that after every crime he commited, the sentence 'Zakaroth wuz here' was always written on at least one area.
Some people claimed that he had claws and fangs, like those of a dragon itself. This, however, didn't tangle with his police record. Most of the time, the police were simply too late, Zakaroth staying one step ahead of them to flee. When he did tangle with the police, they weren't even sure it was him. Usually it was just a figure in a dark cloak, but logic ruled that Zakaroth was the culprit. Zakaroth manged to outfight the police every time, fast enough that no one could ever get a good look at him. He never killed or fatally wounded anyone, but he thrived on destruction, using what people claimed was a new type of invisible flame thrower or rocket launcher to send what appeared to be balls of fire out of his hands, causing cars to explode and empty buildings to collapse. Ranma knew better however.
Once before, in his fight with Saffron had he encountered such an attack. Zakaroth probably was using fireballs to his advantage, and he certainly couldn't rule claws or fangs out either. Ranma had gathered this iformation by asking around, and by the sound of it, Zakaroth sounded like one of Saffron's relatives. One god was enough, wasn't it? Ranma hoped so. Saffron could throw fire the size of a house though, and it sounded as though Zakaroth wasn't nearly as strong as Saffron was.
So he had decided to look for a bar which the thief hadn't roughed up yet. It turned out there was only one left, called the Hiccuping Boozehound. It was, quite literally, a dump, but at least he might be able to get some info. He walked up to the counter and sat on a barstool.
The bartender was unkempt, with only a fringe of reddish hair covering his scalp. He wore a patch over his left eye, wearing a ruffled tunic and a dirty white apron, stained by wear and tear.
"What'll it be kid?" he sneered.
"Yebitsu please." Ranma stared back at the other man.
Ranma put a couple of yen coins on the counter, and the barman prouduced a single can of the beer. Ranma popped the tab and began to drink, expecting a very unhygenic blend, but to his surprise, it tasted as fresh as the day it was brewed.
"Thanks." he told the bartender. "Listen. Barman. I'm looking for some information."
" 'Bout what kid?" the barman sneered again.
"I'm looking for a guy. He frequents bars around this area, and I'm hoping to challenge him to a fight. Name's Zakaroth."
At this, the whole bar went dead silent. What seemed to be the barman's assistant didn't notice that the drink he was filling continued to overflow, unabated. Some people, even after just a few moments began to sob, and some went even as far as to curse Ranma out violently.
A tough stood up from the counter, a punk with a bleached mop top wearing italian sunglasses. "Damn you kid! Now you've gone and jinxed us! What do you say everyone? Let's get him for inviting Zakaroth right here!" he said while taking out a heavy looking chain.
He was obviously the leader of a gang, the members of which stood up with the intent of murdering the boy. Unknown to Ranma, the local bars had become very superstitious of Zakaroth, and had come up with several taboos regarding him, chief of which was to never mention his name in a bar. They believed that the bar in which his name was spoken was the next to have it's inhabitants 'roughed'. A feared warrior indeed.
The thugs, however, had clearly not heard of Ranma's reputation. He began to dodge and weave the strikes of the bar patrons, clearly annoyed. "Listen, I didn't come here for trouble. All I want is to bring Zakaroth to justice!" he said through his third, fourth, fifth and sixth chain dodges.
"We're putting you outta you're own misery kid!" the tough panted. "Zakaroth wouldn't go easy on you like we are!" he panted.
"I'm the one taking it easy!" Ranma taunted. "This is barely even a workout!"
Soon, more bar patrons began to join the fight, wielding everything from liquor bottles to other people. It became harder and harder for Ranma to dodge everything at once, sometimes getting lucky when two or more ruffians hit each other, but there were a lot more of them than him. He got distracted when he noticed a cloaked stranger enter the bar, causing him to be caught unawares by a jagged glass wine bottle in the back.
Ranma screamed out in pain, expecting this to be the end from his own carelessness. Soon, the other ruffians would take advantage of his pain, and sealing his doom. However, to his surprise, the cloaked figure then lept high into the air, coming down upon the center of the makeshift circle around Ranma, using his foot strength to cause a small earth quake. The thugs closest to Ranma were swept off their feet, others just buckled, which allowed Ranma a moment to regain his footing, and continue the attack anew.
"Thanks." he told the cloaked person. "I owe you one."
"Never mind that now." the cloak snapped. "Here they come again!"
"I've got an idea of how to get rid of these guys now, but you'll have to stay close!" Ranma told the person. "Hold them off for a little bit while I start the attack."
"Fine. I hope you know what you're doing. I'd hate to have to drag such a fine corpse out of a seedy bar." the cloak said, a mischievious smile appearing, unnoticed by Ranma.
"All right you punks, time to teach you a lesson!" Ranma snarled. Starting to power up, he noticed the cloaked man (he knew it was a man now, by the tone of voice he conveyed.) taking out the thugs with relative ease, acting as if it was a big joke, doing things like tying the leader up with his own chain, or jumping around the circle throwing random punches. 'Musn't get distracted!' he thought.
Ranma then unleashed a veritable whirlwind. "HIRYUU SHOTEN HAAA!!" he yelled fiercely. The toughs were sucked into the whirlwind, and the ensuing explosion of ki caused a crater to form in the bar.
The thugs all crash landed back onto the bar floor. Ranma and the cloaked fighter however, were not so lucky, arriving two miles west in a large forest. Unfortunately, the wound and the huge amount of ki energy he expended cause Ranma to black out. The last he thing he could remember was the visage of the black cloaked fighter standing over him, about to drop the mask...
**********************************
Ranma awoke to night, wrapped a large sleeping bag that he remembered to be the one from his own pack. He was very surprised when he discovered a fire roaring peacefully almost right next to him, and a pot of soup roasting on the hearth, not to mention the fact that his wound from the fight had been bandaged up.
Wondering who could possibly have helped him all the way out in Hiroshima, well except maybe Ryoga.('No wait' Ranma thought, 'Ryoga is a terrible cook. No way he could make soup that smells that good.) Ranma tried to study his surroundings, but was unsuccessful, as mostly darkness surrounded him.
Almost immediately, rustling came from the nearby woods. "Who's there?" Ranma said challengingly. The rustling stopped, and the form of a smiling young man came out. "I was wondering when you would wake up, sleepyhead." he grinned.
The young man looked to be about Ranma's age. He was fairly tall and well built, with hair the color of fresh snow. He wore a gray gi, with a black belt that tied together his black pants. He had the look of a martial artist about him, but it was strange to see a pair of dark brown sandals on his feet. Martial artists didn't really wear those kinds of things. Proved to be a big disadvantage.
What Ranma was most surprised to notice, which he gasped at, was a sight he had only seen once before from Kasumi. The young man's ocean blue eyes were full of warmth, inviting. The tension he had felt upon waking up had gone away, and had been replaced with relief.
"Uh, yeah." he finally responded. "Pardon me for asking, but, were you that cloaked guy who saved me in the bar?"
"No." he responded. "The guy who saved you was... an friend of mine. His name is Zakaroth."
Ranma's eyes opened in surprise. "Zakaroth saved me? But he's supposed to be a bad guy!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, you might think what he has done would have been bad, having been raised in a society that tends to look at things that way." the young man answered.
"What do you mean, mister, uh.."
"Call me Gray." Gray paused. "What I mean is that if you tend to look at all of the variables, not just the immediately obvious ones, what Zakaroth does really isn't so bad." he held up a hand to silence Ranma, before he could protest. "He may get into bar fights, but usually the patrons of the bars he goes to are criminals themselves. He actually aids the police unknowingly. And he may steal, but have you checked exactly what he has stolen?"
"Yeah, a lot of money and things that belong to museums." Ranma tried to reason.
Gray shook his head. "Yes, but if you check the records, you'll notice that Gray only steals money from people who have too much already. I happen to know that he donates to chairities under a false name."
Ranma gaped. "But what about the stuff from the museums? The ancient artifacts..."
"Ranma think about it this way. Archaeologists, in a way, steal those artifacts first themselves. They take it from the civilizations that belonged to it. The civilization may be dead Ranma, but it's ancestors do live on. Do the archaeologists ask the permission of the decendants of the people? No." Gray said harshly. "Do they ask the people themselves? No. Yet, the historians, archaeologists, and others believe it is right. Because they make a discovery, they are put in the spotlight. They get credit for something that someone else made. Yet, society believes it to be right. What do you think?"
Ranma began to think about this. "I will see you in the morning, Mr...?" Gray asked, beginning to get out a sleeping bag of his own.
"It's Ranma Saotome. And I just want to say, I'm very pleased to meet you Gray. You've given me a lot to think about."
"I am pleased to meet you as well Ranma. You are the first friend I have ever had in ten years. Now get some rest, you still need to recover from your injury." he said, leaving Ranma.
So, for the first time in days, Ranma once again used his heart to guide him, and ironically, hoped that wherever he was, Zakaroth was safe, and wondering why Gray hadn't had a friend in such a long period of time...
Next Episode: Hey everyone! Ranma here. On the next episode, I finally get to meet the powerful Zakaroth, and learn that sometimes having an ego like mine doesn't always win a fight. Plus, Gray begins to open up, and eventually I learn his biggest secret. Next time,
Two sides of the same coin!
Gray and Zakaroth's true relationship.
Master Thief and barfighter!
Ranma Searches for Zakaroth.
Disclaimer: Oops! Forgot to add this before. Ranma 1/2 and all of it's characters belong to the wonderful woman who created them, Rumiko Takashi. Sailor Moon and all of its characters belong to, well, I don't know their name but it belongs to them. Zakaroth and Gray dragon belong to me.
A few days later, under his normal training routine, Ranma had come to Hiroshima. According to his itinerary, a powerful martial artist named Zakaroth had been causing trouble around the place, getting into bar fights and stealing money and treasures from the local populace. Zakaroth was very good at stealth, and the only distinguishing marks the police were able to obtain, were that he had hair the color of night, around five foot nine, and what he claimed to be his name. Of course, it helped that after every crime he commited, the sentence 'Zakaroth wuz here' was always written on at least one area.
Some people claimed that he had claws and fangs, like those of a dragon itself. This, however, didn't tangle with his police record. Most of the time, the police were simply too late, Zakaroth staying one step ahead of them to flee. When he did tangle with the police, they weren't even sure it was him. Usually it was just a figure in a dark cloak, but logic ruled that Zakaroth was the culprit. Zakaroth manged to outfight the police every time, fast enough that no one could ever get a good look at him. He never killed or fatally wounded anyone, but he thrived on destruction, using what people claimed was a new type of invisible flame thrower or rocket launcher to send what appeared to be balls of fire out of his hands, causing cars to explode and empty buildings to collapse. Ranma knew better however.
Once before, in his fight with Saffron had he encountered such an attack. Zakaroth probably was using fireballs to his advantage, and he certainly couldn't rule claws or fangs out either. Ranma had gathered this iformation by asking around, and by the sound of it, Zakaroth sounded like one of Saffron's relatives. One god was enough, wasn't it? Ranma hoped so. Saffron could throw fire the size of a house though, and it sounded as though Zakaroth wasn't nearly as strong as Saffron was.
So he had decided to look for a bar which the thief hadn't roughed up yet. It turned out there was only one left, called the Hiccuping Boozehound. It was, quite literally, a dump, but at least he might be able to get some info. He walked up to the counter and sat on a barstool.
The bartender was unkempt, with only a fringe of reddish hair covering his scalp. He wore a patch over his left eye, wearing a ruffled tunic and a dirty white apron, stained by wear and tear.
"What'll it be kid?" he sneered.
"Yebitsu please." Ranma stared back at the other man.
Ranma put a couple of yen coins on the counter, and the barman prouduced a single can of the beer. Ranma popped the tab and began to drink, expecting a very unhygenic blend, but to his surprise, it tasted as fresh as the day it was brewed.
"Thanks." he told the bartender. "Listen. Barman. I'm looking for some information."
" 'Bout what kid?" the barman sneered again.
"I'm looking for a guy. He frequents bars around this area, and I'm hoping to challenge him to a fight. Name's Zakaroth."
At this, the whole bar went dead silent. What seemed to be the barman's assistant didn't notice that the drink he was filling continued to overflow, unabated. Some people, even after just a few moments began to sob, and some went even as far as to curse Ranma out violently.
A tough stood up from the counter, a punk with a bleached mop top wearing italian sunglasses. "Damn you kid! Now you've gone and jinxed us! What do you say everyone? Let's get him for inviting Zakaroth right here!" he said while taking out a heavy looking chain.
He was obviously the leader of a gang, the members of which stood up with the intent of murdering the boy. Unknown to Ranma, the local bars had become very superstitious of Zakaroth, and had come up with several taboos regarding him, chief of which was to never mention his name in a bar. They believed that the bar in which his name was spoken was the next to have it's inhabitants 'roughed'. A feared warrior indeed.
The thugs, however, had clearly not heard of Ranma's reputation. He began to dodge and weave the strikes of the bar patrons, clearly annoyed. "Listen, I didn't come here for trouble. All I want is to bring Zakaroth to justice!" he said through his third, fourth, fifth and sixth chain dodges.
"We're putting you outta you're own misery kid!" the tough panted. "Zakaroth wouldn't go easy on you like we are!" he panted.
"I'm the one taking it easy!" Ranma taunted. "This is barely even a workout!"
Soon, more bar patrons began to join the fight, wielding everything from liquor bottles to other people. It became harder and harder for Ranma to dodge everything at once, sometimes getting lucky when two or more ruffians hit each other, but there were a lot more of them than him. He got distracted when he noticed a cloaked stranger enter the bar, causing him to be caught unawares by a jagged glass wine bottle in the back.
Ranma screamed out in pain, expecting this to be the end from his own carelessness. Soon, the other ruffians would take advantage of his pain, and sealing his doom. However, to his surprise, the cloaked figure then lept high into the air, coming down upon the center of the makeshift circle around Ranma, using his foot strength to cause a small earth quake. The thugs closest to Ranma were swept off their feet, others just buckled, which allowed Ranma a moment to regain his footing, and continue the attack anew.
"Thanks." he told the cloaked person. "I owe you one."
"Never mind that now." the cloak snapped. "Here they come again!"
"I've got an idea of how to get rid of these guys now, but you'll have to stay close!" Ranma told the person. "Hold them off for a little bit while I start the attack."
"Fine. I hope you know what you're doing. I'd hate to have to drag such a fine corpse out of a seedy bar." the cloak said, a mischievious smile appearing, unnoticed by Ranma.
"All right you punks, time to teach you a lesson!" Ranma snarled. Starting to power up, he noticed the cloaked man (he knew it was a man now, by the tone of voice he conveyed.) taking out the thugs with relative ease, acting as if it was a big joke, doing things like tying the leader up with his own chain, or jumping around the circle throwing random punches. 'Musn't get distracted!' he thought.
Ranma then unleashed a veritable whirlwind. "HIRYUU SHOTEN HAAA!!" he yelled fiercely. The toughs were sucked into the whirlwind, and the ensuing explosion of ki caused a crater to form in the bar.
The thugs all crash landed back onto the bar floor. Ranma and the cloaked fighter however, were not so lucky, arriving two miles west in a large forest. Unfortunately, the wound and the huge amount of ki energy he expended cause Ranma to black out. The last he thing he could remember was the visage of the black cloaked fighter standing over him, about to drop the mask...
**********************************
Ranma awoke to night, wrapped a large sleeping bag that he remembered to be the one from his own pack. He was very surprised when he discovered a fire roaring peacefully almost right next to him, and a pot of soup roasting on the hearth, not to mention the fact that his wound from the fight had been bandaged up.
Wondering who could possibly have helped him all the way out in Hiroshima, well except maybe Ryoga.('No wait' Ranma thought, 'Ryoga is a terrible cook. No way he could make soup that smells that good.) Ranma tried to study his surroundings, but was unsuccessful, as mostly darkness surrounded him.
Almost immediately, rustling came from the nearby woods. "Who's there?" Ranma said challengingly. The rustling stopped, and the form of a smiling young man came out. "I was wondering when you would wake up, sleepyhead." he grinned.
The young man looked to be about Ranma's age. He was fairly tall and well built, with hair the color of fresh snow. He wore a gray gi, with a black belt that tied together his black pants. He had the look of a martial artist about him, but it was strange to see a pair of dark brown sandals on his feet. Martial artists didn't really wear those kinds of things. Proved to be a big disadvantage.
What Ranma was most surprised to notice, which he gasped at, was a sight he had only seen once before from Kasumi. The young man's ocean blue eyes were full of warmth, inviting. The tension he had felt upon waking up had gone away, and had been replaced with relief.
"Uh, yeah." he finally responded. "Pardon me for asking, but, were you that cloaked guy who saved me in the bar?"
"No." he responded. "The guy who saved you was... an friend of mine. His name is Zakaroth."
Ranma's eyes opened in surprise. "Zakaroth saved me? But he's supposed to be a bad guy!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, you might think what he has done would have been bad, having been raised in a society that tends to look at things that way." the young man answered.
"What do you mean, mister, uh.."
"Call me Gray." Gray paused. "What I mean is that if you tend to look at all of the variables, not just the immediately obvious ones, what Zakaroth does really isn't so bad." he held up a hand to silence Ranma, before he could protest. "He may get into bar fights, but usually the patrons of the bars he goes to are criminals themselves. He actually aids the police unknowingly. And he may steal, but have you checked exactly what he has stolen?"
"Yeah, a lot of money and things that belong to museums." Ranma tried to reason.
Gray shook his head. "Yes, but if you check the records, you'll notice that Gray only steals money from people who have too much already. I happen to know that he donates to chairities under a false name."
Ranma gaped. "But what about the stuff from the museums? The ancient artifacts..."
"Ranma think about it this way. Archaeologists, in a way, steal those artifacts first themselves. They take it from the civilizations that belonged to it. The civilization may be dead Ranma, but it's ancestors do live on. Do the archaeologists ask the permission of the decendants of the people? No." Gray said harshly. "Do they ask the people themselves? No. Yet, the historians, archaeologists, and others believe it is right. Because they make a discovery, they are put in the spotlight. They get credit for something that someone else made. Yet, society believes it to be right. What do you think?"
Ranma began to think about this. "I will see you in the morning, Mr...?" Gray asked, beginning to get out a sleeping bag of his own.
"It's Ranma Saotome. And I just want to say, I'm very pleased to meet you Gray. You've given me a lot to think about."
"I am pleased to meet you as well Ranma. You are the first friend I have ever had in ten years. Now get some rest, you still need to recover from your injury." he said, leaving Ranma.
So, for the first time in days, Ranma once again used his heart to guide him, and ironically, hoped that wherever he was, Zakaroth was safe, and wondering why Gray hadn't had a friend in such a long period of time...
Next Episode: Hey everyone! Ranma here. On the next episode, I finally get to meet the powerful Zakaroth, and learn that sometimes having an ego like mine doesn't always win a fight. Plus, Gray begins to open up, and eventually I learn his biggest secret. Next time,
Two sides of the same coin!
Gray and Zakaroth's true relationship.