A Soldier in Tokyo.
Chapter 2: First the Scouts…now Ranma.Several days ago...
The tree tops rustled slightly in the breeze, as Tank and Barsoum trained in an clear area of the woods, not far from their campsite. The creek babbled away as leaves slowly fell to the ground, pruned by the wind. Most of the woods seemed to be made of healthy, strong and straight trees, mostly deciduous. A few pines were scattered here and there, but the largest tree was the tree Tank had found himself against. Easily fifteen feet in diameter, it was an old, gnarled tree. Its bark was thick, with deep cracks in between. Yet it's limbs were wide, and strong. He'd been thinking of making use of it, but hadn't yet gotten around to anything more than just ideas.
At the time though, they were busy training. Tank though, wasn't having an easy time of it.
"Common man, I've told you the proper form like...a hundred times." Barsoum berated his friend, now student. "Why you so stubborn?"
"Cause I don't feel centered, I feel like I'm off balance like this." Tank stood, or rather, squatted before his instructor, with his arms bent at the elbows. "I also feel ridiculous."
"I don't care. You asked for me, ya got me. Now you'll have to do what I say, or you won't gain anything." Barsoum stood before Tank with his arms crossed before his chest. "Now, let's try again."
Tank sighed, then bent down at the knees, and drew his arms up, bent at the elbows. "I still feel off balanced. I thought a good fighter has to have good balance?"
"They do man, but this'll get you up there. Just trust me dude." Barsoum took up the same stance with practiced ease. "Now, block my punches."
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?? I can't touch you remember?" Tank said sardonically.
"Just go through the motions man. You may not be able to touch me, but I can still work on your reactions."
"Alright, alright. Let's go."
He came in with a quick jab for Tank's chest. Tank drew his arm up before his body, then swiped the jab away, then the next jab aimed for his head, then the kick aimed to his knee, then the next hit, and the next, and the next. For several hours they trained, getting his timing, accuracy and speed up as he got used to the motions.
"Whew, ok man, that's not bad." Barsoum wiped his forehead, then removed his BDU top, setting it on the ground near the tarp, still glowing. "Ok, now we'll spar. Take up the most comfortable stance for you, and then we'll just go at it."
"Alrighty." Tank stood straight back up and stretched a sec, then placed his feet shoulder width apart, one arm up by his head with the hand clawed, the other down low near his gut, also clawed. Barsoum looked at the stance, then said, "Never seen that one before, but it's not too bad either."
"Thanks, just came to me one day." Barsoum took up his stance, one leg slightly forward, the other bent at the knee slightly, one arm out and low, the other near his chest. The hands were bladed, looking limp. From expereince though, Tank knew that they were anything but limp.
Faster than Tank expected, a glowing hand flew by his face, and he belatedly swung his wrist to block the touch. He didn't feel it, but he knew that the martial artist would have gotten the touch in. He decided to surprise Barsoum, and as the trained fighter came in with a hard punch, Tank crouched and pulled a footsweep out on him. Barsoum jumped backwards slighly, the footsweep barely missing him. Tank followed up with a charging punch, but changed it as he saw the California slightly shift, possibly to sweep him. His fist cocked, still flying towards Barsoum, he lashed out with a hard kick, connecting with the Middle Eastern-American's gut. Air whooshed from Barsoum, and he became serious. Blows rained apon each other, more on Tank than Barsoum.
Nearly two hours later they stood, bent over panting, rubbing sore muscles of bruises from their blows and blocks. "Man, don't know what it is Tank, but I have to admit, you've gotten a lot better." Barsoum said, shaking his head.
"Thanks man. Kinda wish you had held back a bit though." Tank laughed in reply.
"You shitting me? I just matched what you put out man." Barsoum looked at Tank intently.
Something clicked in both their minds at that moment. They both froze in place, then gazed at each other in awe and wonder.
"You hit me?"
"I hit you?"
At the same time they both cried out, "Holy shit!"
Directly after that moment, a missile from above nailed Barsoum on the head. Rubbing it and exlaiming, "What the fuck?" He looked about for the assialant.
From high above a chattering could be heard. From a branch the same squirrel from the night before sat, with its arms nearly set on it's haunches. It's eyes rolled about in a screwy manner, turning on their own, and in opposite directions. In the light of day, more of its features could be seen. Its belly and the underside of its tail was a gray, almost white fur, with reddish-orange fur all over the rest of its body. It chattered a bit, then tossed down another acorn, which nailed Barsoum directly on the forehead. He rolled on the ground a second, clutching his forehead.
"Ahhhhh! That fucker hit me! Shit that hurts like a mother fucker!" He screamed, still rolling. Tank tried to keep from busting up in laughter, but failed, quite miserably.
Barsoum looked up at him with sparks in his eyes, growling, "That's not funny man."
After getting a grip on his laughter for a moment, Tank said, "Like hell it isn't man. Besides, you laughed at me when I fell on my ass trying to shake your hand."
"Yea, but this is different."
"Sure, sure. Here, lemme take a look." He bent down to look at his friends wounded part. Barsoum lifted his hand away, and a large bump could be seen, with a slight trickle of blood coming from the direct center.
"Damn dude, he really pegged you." Tank explained the wound. Barsoum's face became like stone, hard and foreboding.
"That's it, that little piece of shit is dead." Barsoum stood up, the bluish glow around him seeming to intensify.
"Hey Barsoliny, before you go squirrel huntin, we need to figure out how the hell we were able to hit each other. His friend looked at him, blank for a second, then memory kicked in. "Oh yea."
Tank sat on a stump, pondering. The squirrel forgotten for the moment, Barsoum also sat down, although he kept checking above him for his furry opponent.
"Ok, what made it so that I was able to hit you, and you hit me back?" Tank said aloud, hand on his chin.
"You came at me and nailed me with a hard kick is what. Hurt like a bitch, and I got a little mad." Barsoum replied.
"Yea, I did, but how was I able to touch you? That's the question." He pondered a bit more, as did his friend.
"Maybe it's the physics of this world."
Barsoum stared at him blankly, "Come again?"
"Well, let's think about this a moment. Magical attacks actually happen here. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty certain that the physics of this world are different. I'll be absolutely certain if the guy I think is here is here and can do what I know he can do."
Frustrated, Barsoum said, "Ok, so who is this guy, and what the fuck can he do?"
"His name is Ranma Saotome, I think a kenpo martial artist. He knows shiatsu points, hot and cold energy usage, and an energy attack."
"Energy attack?"
"Ki attack, that better?"
"Oh, ok. A ki attack huh?"
"Yup. Pretty sure it's just one. Anyways," Tank continued, "if what I remember is correct, and he's able to do this energy attack, I'll be certain that this world has different physics, or some kinda different property that allows those kinds of attacks." Tank rubbed his head as an ache slowly formed.
Barsoum shook his head, saying, "Beats the hell out of me. But..." he paused, thinking, "...you might be right." He stood up, and walked over to a tree. Tank watched as Barsoum swung at it with a light jab, just to tap the tree...his hand passed through. He frowned, then concentrated a bit, and did another jab, this one a little harder.
It connected.
"OW!!! FUCK ME!" He shook his hand about in several different directions as Tank rushed over to check him out. Barsoum waved him off though, saying, "I'm good man, just wasn't really expecting to hit. You're right though."
Tank looked at him, surprised, "I am?" He blinked.
"Yea. Something's different here. The ki thing got me thinking. That's why I went at the tree."
"Oh, I thought the tree did something to deserve that." His friend laughed.
"Yea, it looked at me funny ya know." He turned back to the tree, and started to speak in an Italian accent. "You little cock-a-roach, I'll fucking rip youse insides out and fucking make some fucking paper, you bastard."
Tank laughed, shaking his head. Barsoum turned back, a shit-eating grin on his face, and laughing his rivet-gun laugh.
"Man, you're nuts."
"Yea, I know." Barsoum replied cheerfully. "Hey man, I'm going to go try some things out. I'll catch you later k?"
Tank blinked, curious. "What'cha up to?"
Barsoum shrugged, "Eh, gunna mess around with ki is all."
"Oh, alright." Tank nodded. "I'll see about doing something about my clothing situation."
"Good, while you're at it, think you could hook me up with some rope and a tent?"
"What do I look like? I don't have any fucking money!" Tank exclaimed, arms in the air.
"Well how the fuck you going to get some clothes?"
Tank smiled. There was something suspicious in that smile…something that Barsoum didn't pick up on.
"Improvise."
Barsoum looked at Tank dubiously. "This I gotta see."
"Oh of course you'll see…you're the one who'll get the stuff for me."
Barsoum simply raised an eyebrow. "Yea…right."
************************************
"How the fuck did he talk me into this?" Barsoum said, his voice muffled by the cardboard box he was in. It was a rather large box, having been scrounged from lord knew where. While Tank had been searching for the box, Barsoum had gone deeper into the woods to contemplate what he had learned. He had found that if he totally relaxed, he could pass through anything. With some effort, he could become completely solid, without any glow.
Although the last discovery wasn't without its drawbacks, such as dizziness, nausea, and an acute sense of falling…which he did do after holding the form for twenty minutes. It was less painful for him to materialize certain parts of his body, such as his hands or his feet. In fact, that didn't bother him at all. He still didn't totally figure out how Tank had hit him in the first place, or why, even though they fought for a good long while and he was solid at the time, it didn't hardly phase him then.
He didn't get to think on this long though. He remembered the conversation he had with Tank when he came back with the box.
"So…what's that for?"
"It's for you."
"Say wha? Hell no!"
"Common…you're the only one here who can hide in a box and sneak in without a problem."
"Bullshit! Lookit me! I'm a glowing freak!"
"You'll be in the box man! They won't see that."
"I don't wanna go in the box!"
"Get in the box man."
"No way."
"Don't make me pull rank."
"Phhft, yea right."
"Hey, be a part of the team here. There is no 'I' in the word 'Team'."
"No, but there is an 'e' and an 'm' which spells 'Me' so I ain't doing it."
"Barsoum…you're getting into the box!"
"You touch me…I'll kill ya."
"Get your ass in the box!"
"Don't do it! I don't wanna get in the box! HEY ABBOT!"
"What the hell did you say that for?"
"Dunno."
In the end, Barsoum did in fact get into the box. Tank was right, he was the only one. Using his newfound ability, he was able to walk the box over to a nearby clothing shop, while inside it.
They did it early the next morning, allowing Barsoum to work on his concentration.
Inside the box Barsoum sat, waiting. It wouldn't be long till it was showtime, although he had doubts about the plan.
"Who'll really fall for this? Where'd he get such a dumbass idea?" He muttered to himself, settling in to work on his concentration some more.
Across the street, hiding in some bushes, Tank watched.
"Heheh…it's payback time. That'll teach ya to talk like Obi-Wan while I try to sleep." Tank snickered, amazed that Barsoum actually decided to go through with the plan.
At that moment, the door to the shop opened, and the owner came out, broom in hand. He was a short man, wearing a light blue button-up shirt and tan trousers. Upon his face, some squarish looking glasses perched on his nose, his dark hair cut short. The man looked harmless. He looked at the box, and scratched his head a little, obviously confused. He walked around it, looking for any address labels or something as to what it might be about. Finally, perplexed, he hit it with the broom handle, although, unbeknownst to him, it was where Barsoum's head was at.
"OW FUCK!" He rubbed the spot.
Outside the box, the man had heard Barsoum, and saw the box shake.
"Oh no! Not again! You stupid kids won't get me this time!" He rushed into the store, then came back out, wielding a sharp looking katana.
"Die!" He started to hack away at the box.
"Holy shit!" Barsoum cried out, his normally tanned face pale when the blade went through the box the first time. In short order the box was cut to shreds, but, lucky for him, Barsoum wasn't. He sat in a ball, with his hands over his head as the man looked at him strangely.
"What is this?" He asked aloud.
Barsoum raised his head, then stood up. "Whew…that was close."
"Saaaaaaaa!" He looked up to see the nut coming at him with the sword again, screaming hysterically.
"Oh no you don't!" The last thing the owner saw was a glowing being come at him. Barsoum clasped onto the owner's hand with the hilt of the sword upraised, and landed a hard punch to the man's gut, dropping him. "God damn! What the hell is the matter with you? You stupid piece of shit!" For good measure he kicked the guy, then entered the store.
Back in the bush, Tank closed his jaw. "Well…I'm glad it was him in that box after all."
********************************************
"Not bad man." Tank looked at the stuff Barsoum had brought back. Amazingly enough, noone had seen the whole thing, from start to finish. Surprising to say the least, but they didn't dwell on it long.
"Yea, he had a pretty decent selection of stuff, even if he was a crazy fucker." Barsoum nodded, pleased with himself. "Even picked up a nice tent for myself." Barsoum went to set up his tent, but before he started, he said, "Oh, by the way, here's the guy's dough."
Tank looked at him in shock. "You robbed the register?"
"Hell no…it was what was on him. The register was locked up tight." He said nonchalantly. Tank still looked at him.
"Hey, he tried to kill me, I'd say we broke even." Barsoum went back to his work, the sword leaning against a tree.
For his part, Tank thought about it, and came to the conclusion that, in a way, it was a kinda even trade off. He went back to work on arranging his new stash of stuff, most of which he stuffed into a big green nylon travel bag, with extendable handle and lazy wheels, only $59.99.
He looked over his goods, nodding to himself. "Things are looking up a bit." He said softly, hoping that it continued. "Now…to get down to training."
**********************************************
Back over at the clothing shop…
"I swear! I was attacked by an evil spirit!" The hysterical shop owner cried to the detective. A small crowd had gathered around the man as he spun his tale, looking at him as if he had grown a second head.
"He came in a evil box, which I was able to destroy before he attacked me! I swear to you that he was an evil spirit! He glowed blue and had fire in his eyes, and he was…he was dark, with green and brown and black spots all over him! I swear that this is the truth!" He looked at the detective and his partner with beseeching eyes.
The cop merely smacked his lips together, saying, "Uh huh. And who robbed your store?"
"I do not know. The phantom attacked me, and he knocked me out." His eyes flashed, "He could have robbed me! That phantom must have wanted to curse my business!"
"Sir…" The cop had to restrain a sigh, "…if he was a phantom, as you say…why would he need clothing? Why not take your register instead?"
Doubt crept into the owner's face, doubt about his own sanity, the unfairness of life. "I…"
The detective turned to his partner and rolled his eyes, while reaching for an extra card. "Sir, if you find anything else missing, or have any more to tell us, let us know." He pulled his felt down a bit lower against a strong breeze, then started to walk away.
"Man…I tell ya." He mumbled to his partner, who'd been silent the whole time. "These crimes are getting stranger by the month." The other man simply shrugged as they entered their car and drove off, leaving a highly befuddled owner short a sword, a portion of his floor inventory, his pocket money, and….
*****************************
"Barsoum…did you steal the toilet paper?" Tank asked, hands on his hips as he watched his buddy cheerfully shove rolls into his tent. He had changed from his BDUs to a pair of blue shorts, a white T shirt, and a pair of Nikes that were a size too large.
"Well of course. A dude has to shit, and unless you see any latrines out here, there isn't jack to wipe your ass with here." Barsoum smiled, very cheerful.
Tank couldn't restrain a smile completely. "Ok…you got a point." He turned and walked away to sit on a log next to their fire.
Barsoum finished up, and had changed his clothing to something much more comfortable as well before sitting on an identical log. Tank poked the coals, adding a piece of wood or two to keep it going.
"So what's the plan?" The Californian asked, looking into the fire through his glasses.
Tank thought a moment as he poked the coals again. "To be honest, I'm not totally certain. I'm kinda playing things by ear really. Tomarrow I'll try to make contact with Ranma, and see if he'll help with the training." He felt a grumble from his belly, realizing that it had been awhile since he last ate. He reached into his new satchel and pulled out a tin can of some processed meat. Barsoum watched as Tank put a couple holes into the can, and sat it next to the fire to cook.
"You sure you want to eat that stuff?"
Tank shrugged, saying, "I've been eating it a good while now man. It's not bad, whatever it is. This isn't Korea though, so that helps. Taste's like beef hash." His friend made a face before standing up.
"Eh, no thanks buddy. You just enjoy your meal. I'm going to see what else I can….whoa!" A small missile barely missed Barsoum as he dodged.
His eyes narrowed, glaring at the creature that threw the bark piece.
"Tkatakatakataka!" The squirrel chattered away at him.
"Not my fault you missed bitch." Barsoum called back, slowly reaching for the sword leaning against the tree.
"Now…die!!!!" He screamed as he yanked the sword free of its sheath, charging the grounded squirrel for all his worth, jumping over fire and Tank in a single bound, although Tank did fall backwards.
"God dammit!" He yelled as Barsoum charged, his eyes filled with a maniacal desire for revenge.
"Uh oh!" The squirrel chirped in a high pitched voice, although how it acquired a usage of the English language was beyond the two men…although Barsoum had other things on his mind.
"You son-of-a-bitch, I'll make you into a fucking sandwich!" He cried, chasing the squirrel over a downed branch, through bushes, and around trees, swinging deliberately and with great strength, barely missing the tail on more than one occasion before the squirrel finally came to its senses and rushed up a tree, out of reach of the crazy Egyptian with the sword. Safe above on a limb he chattered away angrily…or was it laughter?
Tank rubbed his head, muttering, "Who's crazier? That owner, or Barsoum?"
He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
**********************************************
Present time…
"A proposition eh? And just who are you?" Ranma asked, his arms crossed.
"Call me Tank." The newcomer reached out a hand, friendly.
Ranma raised an eyebrow, saying, "You sure don't look like a tank…whaddya want?" He didn't take the hand.
The man lowered his arm, shrugging as he did so. "I don't want much. I wanted to offer you a deal is all." Tank looked up, still smiling slightly.
Ranma didn't blink, not sure where things were leading. He didn't feel a threat though. "What kind of deal?"
"Training deal." Was the quick response. Ranma blinked several times rapidly as Tank continued.
"See, I've found myself to be in a rather…serious situation, and I need training in the martial arts." Ranma started to walk, motioning Tank to follow.
"Alright. And you want me to train you." Ranma finished, not truly buying the story. "What is it about this guy that's got me on edge?" He asked himself.
"That's the size of it. I do have a good friend who knows Sho Ren Ryu, and kickboxing, but I want as wide a variety as possible." Tank spoke quickly, feeling he was getting somewhere.
"What's in it for me?" It was the moment of truth. Tank had known that the question would be asked. After all, you can't get something for nothing, not in terms of skills anyways. He hadn't been sure what to offer in return, and still didn't have a clue as to what to offer, so he took the next best route, come what may.
"I'll let you name the price Ranma." Tank said, surprising the fighter. "I'll tell you now that I don't have much in the way of money, except for what's in my pocket now, but I'll be more than willing to work something out with you." Ranma gazed at the red head, seeing nothing but sincerity in the face and eyes.
"Hmm…alright, I'll consider it." Ranma saw the surprise, and then the disappointment, both of which flashed by in a matter of a moment. If he hadn't been looking direct he probably would have missed it.
Tank nodded, hiding his disappointment. "I guess that's the most I can expect, considering that I did drop in on you unexpectedly."
Ranma nodded once. Then he asked, "How about you come with me?" He added hastily. "I can't think on an empty stomach."
Tank thought a moment, and then nodded in reply. "Lead the way then."
They walked on in silence, Ranma balanced on a fence with his arms behind his head, and Tank walking on the street with his hands in his pockets. Both men were thinking furisouly, while calm outwardly.
"Ok, why does he want me there? He's usually a straight shooter." Tank puzzled over it a moment. "Hmmm…maybe he wants Nabiki to come up with a deal? Oh hell, that would suck royally." Tank shuddered, fearing slavery or something else along those lines.
On the fence post, Ranma was having thoughts along the same line. "Why does he want me to train him? He seems sincere, but…he's hiding something. He knows more about me than he lets on. What could he know though? And this deal…what should I do? He'll honor it, I'm sure, but…I don't usually do deals. Maybe Nabiki…" He shook his head slightly, "Nah, Nabiki would probably make him a slave or something. Or want lots of money, something he said he can't give." Ranma gazed at Tank, looking at his face closely. He was interested in the man, an obvious foreigner, but for the life of him couldn't seem to see through the man's facial shield. It seemed frozen, almost as if it were carved of living metal. Even when he smiled, he could see the shielding in place in the eyes, although they did come down for a brief moment a couple times. Ranma turned his attention back to his path.
It didn't take long, and soon the Tendo dojo came into view. Ranma hopped down from the fence he'd been walking along, saying, "Here's where I live. Common, I'll show you around." He entered the gate, Tank in tow.
"Oh hello Ranma!" Kasumi called, waving. "And who is your friend?"
Tank spoke up before Ranma could answer, a smile on his face again. "Hello, you must be Kasumi. I'm Tank. I spoke to you on the phone." He stepped forward, and then bowed respectfully.
A look of surprise crossed both teens faces. It surprised Ranma because he knew Kasumi and he bowed instead of offering a handshake this time. It surprised Kasumi, and she felt slightly frightened that the man before her knew her, and was the man on the phone earlier too boot! His bow though eased her a bit though, and she managed to smile and bow back.
"A pleasure to meet you Tank. Will you be staying for dinner?" She asked pleasantly.
Tank looked to Ranma with a questioning glance. Ranma got the hint. "Uh yea, he'll stay for dinner. He wants me to train him."
"Oh, well that's nice." Kasumi said, wondering how she was going to feed yet another mouth.
Tank interrupted her thoughts. "Since I'll be eating at your table Kasumi, is there anything you'd like from me? I don't have much, but I'll gladly pay for my meal at least."
Kasumi was speechless. Nobody who was new to the house had ever offered to pay before. "That's…very nice of you Tank, but that really isn't necessary." She managed to say, even though the offer was highly tempting.
Tank pursed his lips a bit, and then nodded, pulling a hand out of his pocket with a small wad of money in it. "Then, allow me to donate to the family. For services rendered." He offered gracisouly, while inside his head he debated, "She told you no you twit! No still means no!" That incessant voice in the back of his mind said. "No fuckin shit Sherlock. It is only the courteous thing to do though, and these people need any help they can get!" That ended the debate, as the voice really couldn't argue that point.
Kasumi took the money and held it to her chest, a warm smile now on her face. "Thank you very much. We greatly appreciate it."
From the side Ranma had watched, surprised yet again at how the man acted. "Cold and hard one second, then a gentleman the next…what is it with this guy?"
Ranma brushed past the older man, muttering over his shoulder, "Follow me."
Tank bowed again to Kasumi, saying, "Thank you again Kasumi. I also apologize for startling you earlier."
"Yea, although figuring out the damn phone sure was a trip." Tank thought to himself, really wishing he had some way to read Japanese as he did speaking and hearing it.
Kasumi bowed in response, and Tank walked by into the house. To his left he saw a living room style area, with floor couches, a TV, and a small coffee table of some kind. On one of the couches leaned an attractive young woman, with short brown hair. She looked at him for but a moment before returning her bored gaze to the TV, dismissing him. Tank shrugged, inwardly glad that she didn't show any more interest than that. A battle of wits really wasn't something he was in the mood for.
He followed Ranma to the back yard, where there was a small pond in the middle. To his right was the actual training hall, from which he heard lots of high-pitched yells. Tank smirked, thinking, "Must be Akane at work again." As they walked over to the training hall, they passed two older men, both of which seemed to be highly involved in a game of some sort. Tank stopped a moment to watch, noticing that one of them, the man in the brown karate outfit, seemed to be in a fix. Ranma turned, curious as to what Tank was up to. The other man, who wore a pair of glasses, a white outfit, and a white handkerchief on his head finally noticed the newcomer, but didn't say anything, waiting to see what his opponent would do.
Finally, Tank asked, "Mind if I make a small suggestion?" The brown-clad man looked up in surprise, so lost in thought he had been in. "Ahh…sure." He blinked.
Tank pointed to an open spot. "Take that there. Game over." Soun looked at it a moment, then realized that it was true. He smacked his piece down with a flourish, crying out his triumph.
"Hah! Take that Saotome!" Soun crowed, his head seeming to be several sizes larger than normal.
Genma glared at the newcomer, but said softly, "You really should show more respect. It was our game after all."
Tank nodded his ascent, "Granted. Normally I wouldn't have done that, but after nearly five minutes without any movement, I could tell that he was thinking too hard. I don't know this game that well, Chess is my thing." Tank shrugged as he continued, "Besides, you're just pissed because I showed him something you really didn't want him to see."
Genma growled slightly, while Soun asked, "Is this true Saotome?"
"Errr…yes." Genma managed to get out, still glaring at the red head, who gazed back dispassionately.
"Well stranger, you have my gratitude." Soun shook Tank's hand, oblivious to Genma's anger.
Tank shook it back happily, saying, "You're welcome sir. Glad to be of help. And call me Tank."
Soun nodded, releasing the soldiers hand as he turned back to his angry companion. "Another match Saotome?"
Genma turned back to the board. "Yes Tendo. I don't want any interruptions this time." He looked knowingly at Tank, who shrugged it off.
Ranma motioned Tank forward, and they went into the Training hall, where a particularly loud yell was heard, just before a loud crack sounded from within.
"That's Akane. You saw Nabiki, and that was my Pops and Soun Tendo." He told Tank, who hadn't asked. As they entered they saw Akane standing over a small pile of tiles, panting hard. Her white outfit had some sweat spots on it, and her dark blue hair was matted.
Tank shook his head slightly, amazed again. "Even these girls look better in real life." He thought, taking Akane in a quick glance. She turned at the sound of Ranma's voice, her eyes hard at first, and then opened wide as she saw that he wasn't alone.
"Hey Akane. This is Tank. He wants me to train him." Ranma said simply. Akane's eyes though became hard again.
"You mean to tell me that you'll train a total stranger, but you won't train me?!" She yelled, jealous.
"I didn't say I was gunna do it yet." He answered, his face perplexed. "He just asked me a little while ago. I haven't decided on it yet." Akane now glared at Tank, who stared back without flinching.
"Akane…I'm going to say this once, whether Ranma trains me or not." Tank crossed his arms. "You can drop the 'You bastard' look, because I'm not buying it. Ranma just told you that I asked, and that he hasn't decided yet. You need to chill out, or you'll get hurt someday."
"What was that?!?!" She cried out, enraged.
"You heard me. Enough." Tank said, still standing serenely. Ranma slipped away from the soldier, waiting to see what all would happen.
"I'll show you hurt!" Akane charged at Tank, her hands blades. Tank furrowed his brow as Akane curled her hand into a fist, holding it back behind her head for a knockout blow. He waited. The punch came in, straight and true. But it missed. Or rather, was redirected. Tank uncrossed his arms, deflecting with one arm and grabbing her armpit with the free hand. Without a sound he flung her over his shoulder, slamming her on the floor. The wind knocked was knocked out of her, but it was far from a finishing move. She rolled away, and stood up, this time looking at him in surprise.
Tank stood in his stance just a couple feet away, watching, silent and calm. "Akane, you need to chill out now." He said simply. Ranma watched, a hand on his chin as the fight unfolded.
"You got lucky that time!" She yelled, taking up her own stance.
"Wrong, but you're too pissed to see the answer." He replied. This just angered her more. She jumped up and flew at him in a flying kick, aimed to take his head off, but he simply ducked to the left. She landed, following it up with a spin kick to his gut. It didn't make it. His left hand held her leg inches from its target. Before she could do anything, he yanked, pulling her towards him, and then hitting her with a couple quick jabs in her gut and chest as she fell forward. She landed hard, but rolled away, even more enraged then before.
"You pervert!" She cried, rubbing a breast. For his part, Tank looked apologetic.
"My bad." He said simply, thinking to himself, "Oh shit…now ya done it."
She came in a dash, swinging wildly at him, most of which he was able to avoid or deflect. She managed to get a fast kick into his crotch before he could block it though, and from over by the door Ranma winced. Tank dropped, holding his area, while she stood over him with a superior smirk on her face.
"Ooops…my bad." She sneered.
"You're right…your bad." He said, no pain in his voice. He looked up, smirking himself. "You just barely missed."
Before she could get in another word, he tackled her, landing on top of her stomach with his shoulder. He rolled off, and then whirled back, his Beretta in his hand and in her face. She looked at him in total surprise and shock. She didn't expect him to be armed.
Neither did Ranma. His muscles were knotted, and his teeth ground together as Tank took in deep breathes, his aim unwavering.
Tank looked at her frightened eyes, and said simply, "If this had been a real battle, you would have been killed. I told you to chill out, and you disregarded it." He pulled the pistol away, slipping it back into his waistband, and stood up. "Lose control of your emotions, and you lose control of your mind. You can't think if you're angry."
He gazed at her with much older eyes, "I didn't do anything to deserve being attacked. You fucked up."
She gazed up at him, slightly ashamed, but mostly pissed at him for pointing out the truth. Ranma had relaxed, but his measure of the man had changed greatly.
"He had her. Had her bad. But he's right." He gazed at the man, more questions than ever on his mind. "He's not bad, but needs some work." He finally came to a decision.
Tank held a hand out to Akane, who glared at it a moment. The red head sighed, saying, "There is no loss of honor in accepting a hand. You simply got a lesson you really needed, even if you don't know it yet."
She looked away, eyebrows knitted together. "I don't need your help. I can take care of myself." She sat up, knocking the offered hand away.
"He's right Akane." She looked in shock at Ranma, who had his arms crossed again. "He didn't do anything to deserve it. You lost because you got angry." Ranma walked over to where Tank was standing and Akane was sitting.
He looked at Tank, still slightly upset. "I'll do it. I'll train ya." Tank nodded, while Akane dropped her jaw.
"Ranma…you can't!" Ranma ignored her comment though as he uncrossed his arms, fists clenched.
Tank picked up his mood, and took a step back. "What's the price?"
"It'll be a big one. Tank, I challenge you." Ranma cracked his knuckles, slowly taking up his stance.
"Shit!" Tank thought simply, taking up a stance of his own. He reached back and pulled the Beretta out. He removed the magazine, and then placed both on the floor, kicking them aside. Akane looked up, surprised as both men gazed at each other dispassionately.
"I had hoped I wouldn't have to be tested this way, but I accept your challenge." Tank said.
"You shouldn't have pulled the gun. I don't like it when people threaten my friends." Ranma answered.
Tank replied, "You know I was right though. And while I'll fight you, I won't lie, I'll lose." He worked his feet out of his shoes and socks, kicking them over to where the pistol lay.
"At least you know what's coming." Ranma said angrily.
Tank picked up the mood, and called out to Akane, "Akane, take notice. He's angry, but he's not letting it control him. You want to win…you need to learn this kind of control."
Akane glowered, but noticed that Ranma hadn't flinched.
"You…are so fucked." That voice called out in the back of his head. "Yea…I know." He replied to it silently, watching Ranma closely.
Without warning, the cursed martial artist was in Tank's face, nailing him with hard punch to his chest. Tank knocked back a bit, but managed to land a right jab in Ranma's face. Ranma simply smiled, then returned the favor with several jabs of his own. Tank managed to deflect a couple, but most got through. Ranma then pulled a fast foot sweep, but Tank countered by simply lifting up the front part of his foot, catching the leg. Ranma responded by throwing his pivoting foot out, nailing the tanker in the gut. As he was knocked back, Tank grabbed the outstretched foot, pulling Ranma towards him. The pig-tailed fighter spun his body though, nailing Tank with his other foot in the head. Tank fell to the floor, rolling away and coming up in a crouch. He felt something trickle down. He didn't bother to look, knowing what it was.
"Damn…he's fast! He's toying with me though." Tank thought out as his gut burned in flame. He ignored it though, as he stood back up, taking up his stance. Ranma smirked, once again in his stance.
As dumb as it was, Tank couldn't help but smile. "Ok…common bucko." He took his raised right hand and used it to wave his opponent forward. Ranma smirked, coming quite willingly.
From the sidelines Akane watched as the red head took a pounding, but kept fighting. She had stepped away from the two at the beginning, waiting to see the outcome. Something hit her foot, and when she looked down, she saw the pistol and magazine. Curious, she reached down and picked up the magazine, gazing inside.
"It's…empty." She said softly.
True, it was empty. It had been empty the whole time. Tank had left the round behind, intending to use the pistol to simply pistol-whip anyone who might attack him. He needed that round for later, whenever he got around to being in a position to buy more bullets.
She looked back up at the fight, watching as Tank took more hits to the face, a couple more cuts now there. His once white shirt was slightly bloodied, but he continued to fight his hopeless fight.
"Dammit Tank think! Find a hole and use it!" That damn voice screamed as more punishment landed on him. Try as he might, he really couldn't find a hole that he could see. Any holes that appeared, were nothing more than traps, and Tank knew it. The training with Barsoum wasn't a total waste at least. Tank decided to change tactics.
Ranma nailed him with a sweep, landing Tank on the floor. Quickly he rolled away, but not to the right as he had been doing. Ranma didn't catch it in time, and could only watch, with his right arm extended for where Tank would have been, as Tank got up, and planted the hardest kick he could possibly throw into Ranma's side, throwing him a good couple feet away. Ranma held the spot in pain for a moment, then pivoted and charged. He noticed something different though, but didn't dwell on it for very long as he came in a slide, determined to take the man down.
Tank didn't wait for that though. He jumped over the lowered fighter, twisting to follow Ranma's movement as he did so. When he landed, he came in hard, landing as hard a punch into Ranma as he started to stand again. The punch sent Ranma back down, but he rolled backwards and launched himself into the air with his arms. He landed on his feet a short distance away, a couple bruises on his side and in his chest the only evidence that Tank had done anything. He gazed in admiration at his opponent.
"Not bad. You got a couple good ones on me." Ranma rubbed the spots as they reminded him of what Tank had done. "You're better than I thought, and a lot tougher."
Standing in a Barsoum's stance, Tank smiled back. "Yea, well I hope you have more than what you've been throwing at me." Tank taunted, ignoring the screaming voice. It was his voice anyway and he could do that if he wanted too. "I know you're holding back. You've got a bunch of special techniques that you have yet to pull out. I'm also sure you're pulling your punches." Ranma nodded, impressed.
"Ok, yea. I'll admit it. I was pulling my punches." He said. "He's a lot better than I gave him credit for. He picked up that I was pulling my punches. He also changed his style on me." He gazed at the stance, which he recognized as being that of Sho Ren Ryu. "You don't know that style fully do you?" He called out.
"Nope. But I'm adaptable. Whatever works for me." Tank replied. His body was aching a bit. Pulled or not, he'd taken some damage.
"So, are we going to finish this?" Tank asked, again beckoning. Ranma could only gaze in wonder.
"The man can't win…yet he taunts me anyways. Who are you?" Ranma simply nodded in reply, taking up his stance again.
Tank tensed up, and then he surprised his opponent.
He charged.
Taking the offensive, Tank landed several blows into the martial artist before he expected them. Tank fought all out, giving all that he had, and then some. He wasted no motion, conserving nothing as he swung and kicked at Ranma, who had regained his composure and was blocking most of the attacks.
Akane watched in amazement as the red head put his heart and soul into his attacks, the stone-faced mask he wore when he arrived, even when he fought her was gone completely. His face was alive, focused on his target. Fire seemed to fill his eyes, but he didn't lose control. He wasn't getting through Ranma's defense, except on a lucky shot, but he didn't let that enrage him. He just kept coming, despite Ranma's counters. If he felt the return hits, he didn't show it.
"So…that's how he got his name." Akane whispered. She saw something else in those fire filled blue eyes, something she really couldn't place.
Ranma had seen the change as well. As well he should, he was on the receiving end of the older man's attacks. He saw the change in Tank's face just before he attacked, but he didn't expect it as fast as it happened. "As much as I hit him back, it doesn't seem to phase him. I'm not pulling my punches anymore, yet he keeps coming." They locked arms for a moment, teeth gritting, glaring into each other's eyes. Ranma broke off, but Tank came in again, landing a hard punch into the cursed fighters face.
It rocked Ranma back a bit, but he brought his guard up, prepared this time. The older man changed tactics again, this time landing a sweep. Ranma barely managed to dodge it, and quickly opened the distance between the two.
Ranma panted a bit, not having worked out like that in a while. Tank looked at him, his face filled with the rush of the challenge and the flush of battle, although he had more bruises for his efforts, panting heavily.
Ranma felt his body ache a little bit as well. "He's strong. And tough. Those eyes though…those are the eyes of a man who has nothing to lose." Tank's voice interrupted his train of thought.
"Ranma…it's time…to finish it." Tank said weakly. His strength was about over, the rush of adrenaline leaving his body wasted. "Take your pick of technique, I've given all I have."
"My…pick?" Ranma said, at a loss for words. Tank rolled his eyes.
"Fine, I'll pick." Tank straightened himself out, closing his eyes for a moment to center himself, before gazing at Ranma, the shields back in place. His guard was still up, but he knew he had nothing left, especially against what was about to come. "The Chestnut Fist." He said.
Ranma and Akane both dropped their jaws. "How…how did you know about that technique?"
Tank smiled, some warmth there. "If you want information as part of the payment, then say so."
Ranma glared at the evasive answer. "Fine, whenever I ask you something, I want you to tell me. This will last as long as I train you!" He said angrily.
Tank simply nodded. "Bring it on."
"Aaaaaaah!!!!" Ranma rushed in a yell, crying out, "Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken!" Hundreds of punches seemed to fly at Tank, who simply crossed his arms in an X in front of his chest, his head lowered so that his face was protected by the arms. Blow after blow rained down on him, and he felt every single one. Finally, Ranma backed up, gazing at the man before him in wonder. His white shirt had a few tears in it, as did his trousers, but nothing major. Bruises covered his crossed arms from his defense of the Chestnut Fist.
Tank lifted his head wearily, smirked, and said, "Who's…your… daddy?" Then he collapsed to his knees, groaning, before falling to his face, barely able to catch himself with his aching arms and keeping him from smashing his face more.
The two teens gazed at the collapsed man, more questions on their minds than he was able to answer at the moment.
Ranma broke from his gaze quickly, and turned to Akane. "Hey, go get Pops and your Dad. We have to help him." Akane looked to her fiancé, then back to Tank, and then simply nodded and rushed off to help the man she hated at first.
Ranma walked over, and placed Tank's weapon under his tunic. "Best keep this out of Pop's sight."
He heard a groan behind him, and when he turned, he saw Tank struggling to flip himself over. Ranma rushed over and helped him onto his back. Tank slowly opened his eyes, and turned to the younger man. "Guess…I'll be staying the night too. And me…without rent money, heh." His breathing was labored, but not rasping.
"Don't talk. Just rest. You put up a good fight." Tank nodded in silent thanks.
"Tell me…why did you make me go all out." Tank laughed a bit at the question.
"Training began the moment I fought Akane. Call it a strength test. I wanted to see what my limit was." Genma, Soun and Akane rushed into the training hall as he said this, crouching around the fallen man.
"What did you do son?" Soun asked, more fearful of a lawsuit than anything else. Tank answered though.
"I attacked your daughter. He defended her honor by challenging me in return." Akane's eyes widened. Tank looked at her shaking his head very slightly. "Isn't that right Akane?"
The two older men gazed at her, and she quickly said, "Yes, that's what happened."
Confused slightly, they decided to accept it, since they had yet to hear any rebuttals from Ranma. "Shall we call an ambulance?" Soun asked Genma.
"I'm going to train him Pop." Ranma said quickly. Both men gazed at him, more in bewilderment than anything else.
"And this is how you start training?" Soun cried.
"Boy! This is not how you train potential students!" Genma joined in. They were about to tear into Ranma verbally when Tank spoke up again.
"It was part of the challenge. I had asked him to train me, and I had to accept the challenge. It was my deal, I asked for it." His voice was strong again. "I had him go all out. It was my test. The decision was on me, not him. I basically forced him into it."
Ranma thought about it, and figured that it was, more or less true.
"Well…if that's the case then…" Genma managed to get out.
"Let's take him inside Saotome."
"Indeed Tendo."
They lifted Tank carefully, and took him into the main house.
Kasumi watched them carry him in, placing a hand up to her mouth in surprise, "Oh my!" Ranma limped very slightly into the house, Akane walking beside him.
Nabiki looked up as the men went upstairs, and she raised an eyebrow. "What happened to him?" She asked.
"He fought Ranma, as part of a deal to get him to train him." Akane answered.
"Really?" Nabiki's eyes narrowed slightly. She could have made a killing on the photos, considering that Ranma was actually bruised a bit from his fight. That didn't happen every day.
She got up and followed everyone else upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Soun and Genma had placed Tank on the bed, and had already removed the shirt to examine him. "He's in good shape, considering." Soun murmured. At a quick glance it would be hard to tell. Blood from some small cuts was on his face, and there were bruises all over his torso and arms.
Nabiki gazed at him, thinking silently, doesn't look to bad actually. A foreign red head…hmmm." mind clicked away, thinking of the possibilities. Tank felt their gaze and opened his eyes. He turned to face them, saying, "Ok guys, that's good enough." He gathered himself, then slowly, painfully started to pull himself up into a sitting position.
"You should lie down!" Genma cried, as both he and Soun rushed to force him to comply.
"Enough!" Tank barked, stopping them in their tracks. He looked at them, and spoke in a softer tone, "Look, I appreciate it greatly. I don't mean to be ungracious at all. But I know my body better than you do, and I actually have training that you don't in this department." As he talked he was feeling himself over, checking for broken bones or blood spots.
"Yes, I need to rest. You are right there." His eyes hardened a bit. "Don't ever try to force me to do anything though. Understood?"
Genma and Soun simply nodded, while Nabiki looked on in wonder as the man finished his self-exam. Tank looked at Ranma, asking, "Could you help me to the lat…er…bathroom? I could use a soak." Ranma nodded, leaning down so Tank could borrow his shoulder. Painfully he managed to stand, and together they headed down to the foyer. Nabiki looked on while they walked slowly away, asking herself, "Who is this guy?"
To be continued….
Whew….another long one. Hope you all enjoyed.
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