Void Contract

Chapter Five: Dreams

obsidianfox

Started: July 25, 2004

Last Updated: August 11, 2004

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"Get back here, boy! Fight like a man," growled Pops from some distance behind me.

I turned about in mid-leap. "Ha ha, Pop. You've already lost, and I'm starvin'! I'm gettin' somethin' to eat." With that, I flip in mid-air in time to bounce off another building.

"You had your chance to eat, boy. It ain't my fault you're too slow. Now get back here and finish the lesson!"

"Too slow, Pop?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I glance over my shoulder. "Then why are you behind me?" I snort in derision. "Ain't no way I'm doin' more snorkelin' with cement blocks... 'specially in these waters. If the fish won't swim in that filth, why should I? Besides, even if I did catch a fish down there, I wouldn't wanna eat em'!"

"I know what's best for you, boy! Get back here."

I turn to face my old man just long enough to poke out my tongue, pull down on my eye with a finger, and blow a raspberry. I hop off another building and look about for something to eat that won't taste like sewage.

What I find -

... flash ...

I fly through the air to yet another building, watching cars drive by underneath; the people below are blissfully unaware of the two blurs streaking through the air above them.

"DIE NOW, HUMAN! RETURN THE GIRL TO ME!" shouts the creature chasing me. The language is not any I recognize, but the words make themselves understood anyhow. A streak of blue-green light passes me as I shift subtly to left to avoid it. KABOOM! Concrete, stone, and glass showers the street below as I leap to another building.

"Not a chance, Kermit!" I shout over my shoulder. The girl in my arms shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable. Her eyes open slightly and she gazes up at me... or at least in my direction, as her violet-blue eyes aren't focused on anything in particular.

I shift her back to prepare for another impact. I can't fight while carrying her; I need to find a place to hide her. I bounce to another building and glance about for someplace to set her down... someplace that she won't be found.

... flash ...

I dangle in the air, supported by my own shattered and dislocated arms. Foul breath wafts from the frog-like creature in front of me, as he grips my arms to hold me a few inches from his face. Through the disgust and pain, I repeat a mantra to keep my focus. A martial artist protects the weak. I've protected the girl. A martial artist protects the weak. I've protected the girl. A martial artist -

"YOU'RE MAKING A MISTAKE, HUMAN. TELL ME WHERE THE GIRL IS AND I WILL SPARE YOUR MISERABLE EXISTENCE!"

"Never!" I shout. I cry in pain as the creature slowly grinds my wrists together with one of its oversized hand. I start working on a different mantra. I'm a man. Real men don't cry. I'm a man. Real men -

"I think it is time to remove a limb... how about one of those legs you're so proud of. After all, I can't let you run away from me again," the creature says, casually. It reaches down and grabs one of my legs. A quick tug causes me to wince in pain as the leg is jerked briefly from its socket. However, my strong and elastic tendons hold my leg to my body.

I'm made of sterner stuff than most. Through the haze of pain, I manage a smile.

The creature growls as it tugs a few more times then throws me to the Hong Kong rooftop. The roof buckles under the initial blow of my body, and I bounce a few times before coming to a rest. I lay there, dazed.

"TELL ME NOW, HUMAN! ... OR YOUR LIFE ENDS THIS MOMENT!" The creature shouts as it raises one of its arms, palm facing me.

I hear a familiar voice drift from a nearby building, "Boy, where are you! Get back here so I can clout you!"

"Pop," I mutter happily, "look at all the stars!"

A brilliant aquamarine glow fills my peripheral vision, and shift my gaze to the giant frog demon that shares my roof. The creature snorts, "I'LL CATCH UP WITH HER AGAIN, HUMAN. DO NOT BELIEVE YOU'VE PROTECTED HER. YOUR LIFE ENDS NOW, AND YOU'VE ACCOMPLISHED NOTHING. ... DRAGON GRAVE!"

With that, a dragon of aquamarine light launches from the creature's open palm. I move feebly to dodge, but it strikes me anyhow, grabbing my chest within its jaws. Pain tears into me as I'm shoved through the rooftop, then continue to accelerate through floor after floor. Everything the dragon of light touches explodes violently. Splinters of wood, stone, and metal rip into my body... intensifying the pain before I'm shoved through the remains of whatever stands in the path of the beam.

Then, excepting a raging headache, the pain suddenly ceases, even as I continue to accelerate deep into the building. Something in my detached mind registers this as a very bad thing. The rest of my mind rejoices the lack of pain as I get shoved through a desk, several cubicles, an I-beam, a computer, another desk, a stone wall, and a metal door.

I count a half-dozen people diving for cover, bodies peppered with splinters, and clearly see the surprised and pained expression of an office lady whose desk was just demolished in front of her. Blood gushes and peppers the area as her leg is shorn by the exploding shrapnel and shards of metal pepper her body.

A large red stapler explodes into metal shards and violently tossed staples, although the little metal shards that embed themselves in my arm are not felt at all. Papers fly as I tear through a filing cabinet. A toilet explodes into pointy-edged ceramic and I'm drenched in filthy water.

Then I'm falling backwards, facing upwards. The dragon of light fades into nothing as I go freely airborne after being shoved out through the side of the building. Several large pieces of debris join me in the fall... large slabs of stone and several long pieces of piping twirl in the air above me. I automatically begin shift away from the debris in order to land properly and safely...

but my limbs don't obey.

I panic and fight to move, but it doesn't work. My brain lets me know, on an intellectual level, what's going on. I'm falling. I'm paralyzed. I can't do a breakfall. I'm bleeding and broken from hundreds of injuries. If the landing doesn't kill me, the debris might; if the debris doesn't, I'll bleed to death from injuries already sustained. I will die soon after I hit the ground.

My ego kicks in. MOVE, body, MOVE! I haven't finished my duty! I'm the best! I CAN do this.

But, still my limbs don't obey me.

I'm paralyzed. I'll die. I never thought it would happen to me. I'm the best. I'm young. I have a full life ahead of me.

Isn't my life supposed to start flashing now? I wonder. I try to recall my past, but the only memory is that of my laughing gaily with Pop after a nameless day of intense training. But... no flashing images. How boring; at least it would have filled time on the way down.

I sigh painfully as I fall, unable to do anything else. I failed. I didn't save the girl. I can't protect anyone after I die. A half dozen others were injured or killed due to my weakness. I wasn't strong enough. I was weak.

I'm weak. Who will help me? Pop, where are you?

This fall is taking a REALLY long time... am I dreaming?

Then I hear a girl's voice scream, "RANMA!"

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I wake up scared, sweating. I failed. I FAILED. I was weak. I gave up. I need more power, more endurance, more skill... it can't happen again. I won't allow it to happen again.

Again? That was just a dream, right?

Obviously it was; I'm still alive.

Then I remember the demon I fought today... the six-limbed, big beaked, yellow ichor demon-beast freak with fire eyes that paralyze. The hellhound, for lack of a better noun.

Even if that was a dream, it COULD happen.

Being the best isn't good enough. Not anymore. Not against demons. I need enough power to both defeat demons and to protect others at the same time.

I glance at my fists and shake my head in sorrow... these hands by themselves aren't strong enough to take out that frog demon from my dreams or the hellhound from yesterday. In the end, it was guns and throwing knives that took the hellhound out.

I come to a resolution. I'll study those mystic arts hard. I'll improve my skills in weaponry; what moderate skill I have was only gained to learn weaknesses in various strikes.

My ego rebels at becoming dependent on weaponry, even a little bit. Weapons aren't part of me. Weapons can be taken away. A warrior dependent on weaponry has an unnecessary weakness. I could have beaten that hellhound with my fists, given more time. I almost did!

However, a smaller, but growing, part of me clouts my ego and says to be practical; even if I can win with my fists, is it right to prolong the fight and potentially let someone get hurt or killed? Someone like, say, Shiina's father? What is the first duty of the martial artist? To protect the weak, of course. If I had a good sword, that hellhound wouldn't have made it out of the park, and Shiina's father would still be alive. The hellhound would have lost a leg on my first strike.

I recall listening to Li Ling Ling from behind my hoagie; sometimes I'll need to become a warrior. I can't save everyone. Hopefully that doesn't happen often.

But when the warrior's away, the martial artist can play. I don't need to become dependent on weaponry.

However, I will need to acquire some weapons of my own... and soon. If I encounter another demon tomorrow, I can't let myself be responsible for more deaths because I'm not prepared to fight it... even if being prepared means carrying a blade. I suppose, perhaps, some ki techniques can provide me with weapons. Pop said I had ki-claws with the neko-ken... but that technique is somewhat... unique. I shudder. Until I learn something I can use, I need to get some real weapons. I know ki can enhance weapons used; I recall a few fights with kendoists that could cut trees down with a bokuto. That has to be ki.

I grab the three throwing knives and look at them for a moment, gazing at my shadowy, distorted reflection in the dark. These are definitely Shiina's, but I'd like to learn them too. Maybe she can show me; she's much better than Pop at thrown weapons. I'll ask before I return them to her. I'd rather use these than... that gun. I sneer momentarily, before my face forms a smirk. Heh. And, for non-lethal fights, learning to throw chopsticks would be useful.

As the dream begins to fade, I look about. It is still dark, late at night, with city lights filtering into the abandoned building where we're camping for the night. I've only been asleep a few hours. I vaguely recall someone calling for me, but cannot remember if it was the dream or someone awake. From my tent, I hear a low, regular moaning sound. Is she in pain?

I scuttle over towards it and poke my head in while asking, "Shiina, ya' alright?"

My eyes pop out of my head and float across pale naked flesh, breasts, hips, and legs dimly in the bluish shadowy light that filters into the tent. Soft shadows accentuate her curves and soft skin. Her good arm lies across her body, pressing against one breast and hiding her soft belly and... other bits. With my eyes, I trace the shadowed curves of her tight abdomen, navel, and hips.

In a flurry of motion, Shiina covers herself with my blanket and grabs her gun, but she doesn't immediately swing it in my direction. Instead, the girl directs her gold flecked violet orbs to my own cerulean eyes; sweat glistens on her forehead and a weird, embarrassed grin contorts her face. I blush and return an embarrassed grin of my own even as I pull my head back out of the tent and move silently and preemptively to avoid any gunfire.

What the heck was I doing, ogling a naked girl? Why's she sleeping naked in MY bedroll? I blush a little more. I'm not sure whether I should be disgusted or excited about that, so I shove it aside and deny myself any opinion on the matter.

After regathering my wits, which takes a while... but apparently takes less time for myself than for Shiina, I say, "Err... sorry. I shoulda' knocked or somethin'. Did'ja call? Ya' aren't hurt or nuthin', are ya'? Ya' need anythin'?"

A long moment of silence follows my question.

"Yes, you should have announced yourself. As far as what I need... I could REALLY use a smoke, and some panties would also be nice, but I can take care of that in the morning. Go back to sleep, Ranma," Shiina says from the tent. "Pervert," she adds under her breath.

I cringe a little at that accusation; this is the first time I actually deserved it. On the other hand, I did take a nice, long, good look. Heh. All in all, it was worth it... at least if she doesn't shoot perverts.

"Ya' really should sleep in the gi, 'least until you've got undies. If you're attacked at night, it don't do to be spendin' time gettin' dressed," I say as I return to my blanket near the tent. "And I'll be kinda' distracted if you fight naked!" I add as I lie down.

"Baka Hentai!" she shouts from the tent. A muffled giggle follows and I grin; she can take a little teasing. She adds, a bit more affectionately, "Good night, Baka Hentai."

"G'night," I reply, cringing. She won't be calling me that in the morning, will she?

I wrap the blanket about myself. With the clear summer weather, not much more is needed, although my pillow would be nice, but Shiina's got that. Panties... damn; I resolve to wash that gi and my bedroll the next chance I get. What else did she ask for... a smoke? Shiina smokes? What a disgusting habit... and bad on the lungs, too. Breath is central to life and spirit in martial arts. It is too bad such a beautiful girl is marred by such filth.

On the other hand... far better alive and smoking than dead. Both her parents died.

She's taking it remarkably well.

Maybe the neuralizer helped. Much of yesterday still feels fake, like a dream, just from the indirect light of that evil device... especially when combined with the general weirdness of the day. It sure makes denial easier.

Even so, if my Pop had died... I shove that dreadful thought aside. Hard. Even so, a single, powerful, silent sob wracks my chest. I almost lost him yesterday... and he almost lost me. I'm lucky the creature didn't slice my throat wide open. I'm lucky I awoke in time to protect Pop. I'm lucky Pop's injuries weren't more permanent.

I was lucky.

Shiina wasn't.

Silent tears seep from my closed eyes as I return to slumber.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"I think this is it. This is a true temple," I say, looking at the building ahead of me. I stand in front of it a moment longer, then I move to enter.

Except I'm somehow still standing still. Well, I better get moving. I start walking in... But neither leg leaves the ground. Instead, I continue gazing into the lot ahead of me.

Minutes pass. Shiina takes a deep swig of water from my canteen, then screws the cap back on. "It's HOT out here! Come on! Let's get going! If you don't want to enter, then let's go to a mall... with air conditioning. I need some clothing and this gi is starting to chafe," Shiina complains.

I look at her. She's carrying my canteen and wearing my gi which is drenched heavily in her sweat. Heat rises visibly in waves from the asphalt and the summer sun beats down on Hong Kong. For me, the weather isn't particularly uncomfortable.

Ahead of us lies the seventh temple we've visited today. The temple itself is enclosed by wooden fence and contains a small park with a few large trees to provide shade, a small pond, flower gardens, vegetable gardens, and an electric pump powered waterfall. Several weather-worn stone Buddhas line either side of a cobblestone path to the doorway. On each side of the entry gate is a canvas scroll saying something in Chinese calligraphy.

I eye the scrolls warily, and a sense of foreboding rises within me. I have yet to speak with the priest at this temple. In fact, I have yet to cross the threshold.

I start to step forward, but end up turning to Shiina and telling her, "Hey, I never said you had to come with me. This is important to me; I'll visit every temple in Hong Kong if I have to."

"You need me here 'cause you don't speak a word of Chinese. You're wasting my time. What makes you think this temple will be any different from the others?"

"It just is! I can feel it, okay?"

"Then let's get this over with!" Shiina growls.

I start to step forward yet again, but instead turn to Shiina and say, "Just give me a moment. I've gotta get prepared."

Shiina walks past me and to the gateway, then turns to face me and taps one toe on the ground impatiently. "You've been standing there for at least five minutes now! How much more 'prepared' do you need to get?"

I raise my left leg, put it in front of my right, then set it down. It lands next to my left foot. I scowl in frustration. Why the hell can't I move forward?

Shiina directs a dark glare in my direction, then stomps up to me, grabs my hand, and jerks me towards the temple entrance. I stumble a bit, unable to voluntarily move my legs in the direction she's tugging me. I reach out to catch myself. Then white fire flares from the scroll, searing my outstretched hand. "YEEEOUCH!" I shout, jerking my hand back. I stick my hand in my mouth. The pain fades rapidly, but then nausea sweeps through me, causing bile to rise in my throat before I swallow it back.

What are these scrolls? Magic? Why did it burn me? I stand there for a moment in shock. I glance at my hand, but no injury is evident. I wipe the saliva on my gi. When I look back at Shiina, she drops my other hand and stares at me, eyes wide with fear. She takes a few steps away from me, scared. "Get away from me, you demon!" she shrieks. She turns and runs into the temple grounds.

I watch her go, somehow unable and unwilling to follow, despite my urge to do so. Why did she call me a demon? I gaze at the scrolls a bit longer, feeling a bit freaked out. Nausea squeezes my chest and stomach. I force myself to place one foot in front of another until I'm past the gateway.

Then, suddenly, moving forward feels natural to me once again. The nausea, however, remains. I sit down on a stone bench in the temple grounds to collect myself before heading into the main temple building. I watch as a colorful koi leaps from the small pond then drops back into the water with a small splash.

"How may I help you, child?" a gruff, deep voice questions, hostility plainly evident. I look up to meet eyes with an ancient, wrinkled Chinese man with white hair hanging from a bun in his head, and a white, neatly trimmed beard and mustache that hangs to his belly. He wears green and white temple robes that hang down to hide his feet; a motif of white lotus blossom decorates vertical green bars hanging from each shoulder. Despite his apparent age, he stands straight and tall; his arms are crossed in a no-nonsense fashion. The man's eyes are obsidian cold, hard, and black as they glare into my own; I feel power rolling from them in waves.

He must be skilled as I didn't notice him before he spoke. Even as lost in thought as I was, very few people could get that close to me. I quell my surprise and swallow the anger that briefly wells up within me in response to the priest's hostility; this person may have the skills and powers I need. I return his hostile gaze with my own even one to begin a spiel well practiced from the six temples I've already visited. I grin a little. I don't need Shiina to translate; this priest knows Japanese.

"I am Ranma Saotome of the Saotome Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu. I'm lookin' for a teach' in the mystical side of the martial arts. You know... ki blasts and stuff. Ya' can help, right?" I grin expectantly as my eloquent speech works its magic and manipulates the man into helping me. I'll become a master of words even without your help, Pop.

"No. I refuse to help you, you Japanese boytoy. I despise you Japanese. You dare insult my temple by approaching while dressed like that? I've seen wounds that are better dressed than you are. You aren't worth my time or my breath. Get out of my sight and out of my temple. Go become a drag queen in Bangkok; they'll teach you how to dress, and it's the only thing you'll ever be good for with your effeminate looks. The Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu is a child's art invented by that lecherous drunken shit called Happosai who uses explosives as self-assurance in face of his own impotence; it is fit only for clockwork dolls, little children, and Yankees. Oh, and I guess it's good enough for Japanese boytoys like you. The higher art isn't for you, child. Leave these grounds lest I remove you from them." So saying, the man turns about and starts walking away.

"How DARE you insult my school," I shout, ignoring for a moment the insults to my masculinity and heritage. I clench my fists, seething. Must... maintain... self-... control. What would a master of words say? Insult can be met with insult. Perhaps I can insult him into helping me like Pop always does to get me to do things. I respond, "I AM ready for the higher arts, and I need them to fight demons. I'll have you know the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu has already made me the best martial artist of my generation. You're just jealous that you don't know it. You're just a coward, afraid I'll be more powerful than you if you teach me your so called 'higher art' despite the fact you'll be leaving both it and life behind in your old age, you geriatric fart."

Heh. I'm a genius; I remembered and properly applied the word 'geriatric'. I'm definitely well on my way to being a master of words.

The man turns to face me and raises a brow at my impudence, and flips a hand through his long beard, tossing it into the air from which it drifts back into place before he starts speaking. What he says tests, and easily finds, the limits of my self control. He says, "You moronic, disgusting, dog. You think you are worthy of my art? Why would I help a Japanese mongrel like you? You should face legal action for your ridiculous attempt to impersonate a man. You're the kind of greasy, giggling, girly gombeen who buys STDs from a viral lab just to make it look like you get laid. I'd tell you to go fuck yourself and the horse you rode in on, but looking at that stupid grin on your face, I'd say you already have." The man stops only to take a breath.

"ENOUGH!" I shout, finally getting a word in edgewise. I'm seeing red. I leap at the man, arms swinging.

The man dodges out of range, then continues. "You aren't even worth the energy expended to calculate your worth, you syphilitic demonic whore, but from those pathetic blows I've determined your value doesn't even amount to a festering discharge from a leper's rectum in Calcutta. Calling you a pea brain would be an insult to peas, you jellyfish-sucking mental midget. I curse you, you whose word is worthless; may you turn into a frog, a stork eat you, and shit you from a five-hundred meter height. You are a preposterously repugnant sycophant and a maladjusted, coma-inducing failure to endure the scrutiny of those with distinction." He punctuates his statement by spitting in my face while dodging another volley of punches.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" I shout, wiping the slimy mucous from my eyes with one arm. I then leap at the man again, arms and legs flailing. My self-control is shot to hell.

"Your braying causes my ears discomfort, you ass." says the old man. He knocks my arms aside, casually redirecting my attack. "You couldn't give an armless parapalegic amputee a good fight." He turns my attack into a throw and plants me into the cobblestone walkway. "After you finish falling over your own feet, I can dress your wounds; it would be an improvement to hide your putrid pustule-covered pimples you delinquent nose-picking puss-covered discharge of mucous-membrane cause of nightmares in small children. With such a demonic visage, I wouldn't be surprised if you get your own Shinto temple in Japan after you're long dead. I despise your face." He stomps at my head, but I roll out of the way at the last moment. A crater and a cloud of dust is all that is left of the cobblestone upon which my head had lain a moment before.

I don't have any pimples! I growl internally. When I roll back to my feet, I notice through my anger that I'm dimly glowing red. I gaze at my hands, mouth agape, then turn to look at my legs and body as I dodge a strike to my chin. I sense the manner in which I'm pouring energy into my emotions, into my aura, draining me as surely as if I was running. I'll need to try and duplicate this, later. I turn my angry glare back to the old man. I grin widely, evilly; the aura Pop talked about is back, and this geriatric old man is in for a pounding. My aura suddenly flips to blue as I regain my confidence and self-control. I start launching a series of punches and kicks at the old man.

This time the old man saves his breath as he dodges my attacks like air, right in front of me but impossible to strike. He counterattacks with a quick open-palmed strike to my chest. I fly backwards into one of the Buddha statues, shattering it before falling to the ground in a lump. "You scum-scrubbing snot-eyed ass-wipe that so readily desecrates the image of Buddha," he says, "you must be Shinto, worshipping long dead oni that have neither desire nor ability to aid you in life." Then he claps his hands together in front of him and holds them there. "Hi-sei-ken!" the man whispers; the words, spoken almost distinctly, carry to my ears. I feel the man's aura surge, then the man's hands begin to glow with white fire. The white blaze reaches out with tongues of flame to lick the air.

Pop and I, like most Japanese families, loosely follow both the Buddhist and Shinto ways, in addition to enjoying various Christain holidays, especially when food is being distributed. However, this man's last insult falls on deaf ears; I've fixed my attention and my gaze upon the flickering white blaze around the old man's ancient hands. Hiseiken... roughly Holy Fire Fist. Oddly enough, it makes sense when I translate it. "Why'd you name yer' technique in Japanese if you 'despise' us," I barb as I regain standing position. "I'll bet you stole if from us Japanese in the first place, you Chinese antique."

"I am Pai Mei, high priest of the White Lotus clan," says the man, ignoring my barbs. He grins widely, showing stained teeth between hairy lips. "I would let you name the one who kills you that you may join the ranks of those I've destroyed before you and welcome those that follow," he adds calmly. The old man surges forward to attack with fists of white flame.

I bounce upwards, flip backwards, and balance precariously on the remains of the Buddha statue to dodge the old man's attack. The man's fist tears through the statue, shattering the rest of it as I bounce off to another statue. I gasp as I see a few pieces near the base of the ex-Buddha statue glowing a dim cherry red, although they fade even as I watch. Neat ki technique, I think, and I'll have to avoid those hands...

Then the man pulls one hand back to his ear, tongues of flame licking between his open fingers, then shoves forward, launching a white fireball from his right hand. The fireball steals all the flame. I easily dodge the unexpected ball of flame, then another from his other hand. I surge forward to attack in his moment of weakness.

The man simply smiles as he claps his hands together; when he pulls them apart they glow with white flames once again. This time he neither concentrated nor held them together; the clap was just that, a clap. He fades away from the power of my cresting kick, then surges towards and around my followup with blazing hands.

I grimace as the flame licks painfully across my cheek as I narrowly dodge a straight punch. I hiss in pain as I block an attack with my forearm. When I strike back, Pai Mei simply grins and guards my attacks with burning hands, inflicting far more pain to me than he suffers. However, the pain from the flames is temporary and the burnt skin remains blistered for only a few seconds before recovering. I blink a few times; my ki healing seems to have really improved recently. Pai Mei also watches the healing with some interest. "You heal fast, like a teenage mutant ninja cockroach that just won't die; it is too bad that you waste such an ability by allowing it to encourage your utter lack of defense," he says as finds and penetrates a hole in my defense that I had not recognized. His blow knocks me headfirst through a second Buddha statue, destroying it utterly.

Damn. This guy's more skilled than me, even without the Hiseiken. Gotta expect that, I guess, says part of me; after all, he's generations above me in practice. However, as a student of my father and the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu, I must accept all challenges and I'm not allowed to lose any of them. But, how will I beat him and his technique? I put a detached part of my mind to work on that topic.

I grunt and begin to stand up, only to be grabbed roughly from behind. I feel intense pain as the gripping hand sears into my flesh, and hear a nasty hissing and popping like meat left over a fire. Actually, it is meat over a fire. The smell of my burning flesh churns my stomach and intestines and twists my face in disgust, all the more so that it actually smells appetizing. My right arm is twisted into a fairly primitive, but very effective, arm lock. That is, it is really effective unless you are willing to dislocate your own shoulder to escape it, or have enough strength to lift the man holding it and resist the pressure. I've learned to do both with Oyaji.

"Your arm is mine. I think I'll take it and study that healing of yours," says Pai Mei. "Washi Tsumetetsu!" (roughly: eagle iron claw). Even as he speaks, I twist out of the primitive lock on my arm by lifting Pai Mei briefly with my arm, shoulder, and hips. I hiss in anger and pain as I feel three deep gouges cut into my arm, tearing and searing through flesh and bone and back even as I escape; whatever that technique is, it was used in combination with the Hiseiken. I leap away, arm still attached but torn and hanging limply at one side.

I turn and dodge back to defend myself against a long series of his attacks, mostly by doing the easy thing and keeping out of range, while my arm slowly heals. Well... slowly is relative to the other wounds I've received; it only takes about six seconds. I notice that, somehow, the healing doesn't drain me like the aura does.

After my arm heals, I move back into the scuffle, closing holes in my defense that the opponent notices and observing Pai Mei's reactions to my own attacks. I slowly pick up his style, learning enough to predict his attacks and defenses, and adapting my own style to it. That detached observer within me learns two new Tai-Chi style shoves as I watch. I slowly innure myself to the pain of those white flames as they strike my arms, legs, and chest, and they heal, again and again and again.

I keep my gaze fixed on Pai Mei. This guy's playing serious with iron claws and burning fists. I'd probably be dead already if I couldn't heal like I do, but I'm not sure he'd be using those techniques if he didn't notice my healing and decide he could go all out on me. He didn't use any of them until I started glowing blue, myself. I guess I'll just assume the best.

Then I notice my blue aura has died. My confidence has been shot once again. So this is why Pop said emotion-based auras are such fickle things; perhaps I need to find another emotion or mindset to pour my energies into. Whatever I can be in mind, body, and spirit, eh? Well, what can I be right now? Scared? Probably a bad choice; I'd be invoking the Saotome Secret Technique in a jiffy. Hopeful? Another fickle emotion. If I can most easily be anything in mind, body, and spirit, then it is ME, but I haven't a clue on how to dump energy into that. I glance about. Buddha? Way out of my league; I'll never be an ikibotoke (living Buddha). My gaze returns to the man chasing me down even at this moment with fiery hands.

Can I be Pai Mei? Now that's a ridiculous idea; even if I could copy him mind, body, and spirit, I'm sure I don't want to. On the other hand, picking up his skill at insults could leave Oyaji floored without even a punch. But, I'm Ranma and would rather remain that way. Yet Pop said I'd snap back if I'm flexible enough, and picking up those techniques of his and his combat style would be good for the Saotome Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu, if I can manage it, and would also be good for fighting demons. Pop is always insisting on learning from every opponent, despite my tendency to ignore weaker opponents.

Well, perhaps I can pummel energy into being detached, observant, and analytical, like a scientist or a crime scene investigator. I'm often that way against superior opponents anyway. Heck, I'm already doing it to Pai Mei, or at least part of me is, so it isn't too much of a jump at the moment. I just need to pump energy into that part of me. Rather than having some detached part of me being the observer and I'll be the observer mind, body, and spirit.

I back away from the combat, and try to shove ki energy into being a detached observer, but nothing happens. I don't feel the movement or consumption of ki as I felt with my confidence aura. I think about this carefully; I need to be a detached observer in mind, body, and spirit. There's that detached, analytical observer part of my mind, but that is only part of my mind; the rest is acting, thinking about what Pop would say, feeling pain, thinking of insults. My mind isn't focused. My spirit is definitely expressed in my actions... currently I'm not acting just to observe and analyze, instead one part of me is acting to defend myself and defeat the opponent, and that detached observer in my mind is just working with what information it has. My body, finally, is currently in a somewhat detached state; I'm just ignoring the pain, for example. However, I need to encourage a greater detached observer state. If my mind, body, and spirit are going three different ways, I need to change to unite them.

I can't just shove ki energy at a state; I need to actually be in it first. At least I think that's what Pop meant.

Over the course of the next ten minutes of fighting with Pai Mei, I slowly work on detaching myself from my body. Rather than grimacing in response to the pain of scorched arms, I pretend it happened to someone else. Rather than getting disoriented when I'm knocked head over heel through yet another Buddha statue, I command my dizzy body to stand and back off until sobriety recovers. In addition, I focus my attention to observing my surroundings and Pai Mei. I analyze his technique and especially focusing my attention on Pai Mei and how I can use these surroundings in my fight with him. I almost watch myself kick an already detached Buddha head right into Pai Mei's face. It flies through an opening I designed, and bounces off his nose; he sends a stream of curses my direction. Finally, I tailor my actions to aiding observation and analysis. I strike here and there to probe for response, sometimes intentionally predictable and sometimes performing wild combinations of moves that I'd never be able to predict. I open and close my defenses, sometimes leaving intentional and brief holes to bait his response all the while observing and closing unintentional holes in my defenses. This behavior often leaves me in pain after Pai Mei takes advantage of the smallest holes in my defense with his holy fire iron eagle claw technique.

And, as I finally feel myself reaching the state I desire, I sense ki flowing into it, solidifying it, without me even pushing. However, I push and shove even more ki into the state, focusing with all my attention. Words come to my mind, and I say, "Zenkeigan," and suddenly I'm no longer in my body. Instead, I'm above it, below it, around it, behind both myself and Pai Mei. I feel, hear, smell, taste, and see everywhere at once; however, this input too much, vision without focus. So I focus. I'm in the air, watching cars drive by in the distance. Cool. SLAM! The person below me is knocked backwards in his moment of inattention... stupid boy. I watch with disinterest as the boy crawls back to his feet, scorched gi burned through in dozens of places. I move to the ground and focus my attention into it, watching a few small worms crawl through the damp earth below the cobblestones. CRUNCH! THUMP! A shockwave rolls like thunder through the ground, deafening me. I lift my head to see the boy crawling out of yet another Buddha statue. The boy prepares a fairly feeble defense against Pai Mei's attacks, defending mostly on instinct and schooled reactions, although as I drift closer the defense increases rapidly and my body starts to return attacks at holes I see in Pai Mei's defense.

My body?

Wait! That boy that seems to be paying little attention to the fight... that's ME! Where's my attention? I detect the answer returning from some other part of my mind. Oh, I'm it. Very Funny. I focus myself on the fight; after all, I can't allow me to lapse. I occasionally shake my head at how stupid my body's actions or defenses are, and focus on how to respond in the future. I also carefully watch Pai Mei's excellent technique, observing the subtle shifts of his legs and hips, and I listen with interest to those streams of insults spewing from his mouth. I feel my body getting angry in response to those insults, but a suggestion, just a brief thought from me, leaves it ignoring the insults; after all, they'll be useful against Pop. I can't seem to make Pop angry anymore... but soon I'll be a master of words.

My body doesn't always take my suggestions, which surprises me. When I mentioned several openings in Pai Mei's techniques that I observed, my body refused to attack them. Weird... it is as though I'm not the me in my body; I'm a different me. When I ask, the me in my body lets me know it was too injured and out of balance to attack those openings at the moment. Perhaps I need to focus some of my attention on the me in my body, too. I've been ignoring it so far. I reach into it, and vaguely sense the things as my body does; I feel pain, see through the eyes, taste the blood in the mouth, sense the anger and fatigue in my body's attacks. I sense an utter lack of confidence of my body in this crazy new technique. It wants me back; it tries to drag me in, but I tell it to stop, and it does. However, these sensations are muted, as though they are happening to someone else and I'm just being told about them, even as I still observe from outside. However, this connection also allows me to more voluntarily control the body; I subtly shift my balance in response to precise knowledge of the terrain below me, and exact knowledge of Pai Mei's own balance as I can determine it from my indirect, remote contact with him. Rather than being completely outside my body making mental suggestions about what to do next, I actually have some fine control where I feel I want it.

For the next half-hour of fighting with Pai Mei, I observe and adjust and get used to moving my attention deep into my body for complete control, then back out to the point where I'm just observing and commanding or making suggestions. I become a bit of a coach, viewing everything from a second perspective, teaching my body how to act and respond to Pai Mei's style. I carefully observe and learn Pai Mei's techniques and style for both present defense and future integration into my style, where appropriate. Despite my observation, however, I still don't figure out how the Hiseiken and Washi Tsumetetsu work... I figure I probably need much greater experience with ki techniques to learn them by observation as easily as I currently learn physical forms. Unlike a real coach, even during the worst of the fight, when my body's ears are ringing and head is spinning, I can still somehow reach in and communicate with me. Regardless of where I position myself, I feel as though I'm detached from my emotions, senses, and feelings. My ability to communicate with the me in my body rapidly increases, especially as I begin to always leave part of myself focused 'inwardly' on my body.

My body and I slowly come to an understanding as we are two different people fighting in tandem. My body fights independently using my own observations, in addition to those it can garner from my attachment to it even if I'm not directly paying attention. When I make suggestions, it lets me know what it thinks of them if it doesn't follow them immediately. In return, my body forces me to promise to try to keep it out of pain... it was rather upset with me before, and it requests I cordone off a section of my mind where it can perform some independent analytical thought and observation. I sense a vague, distant fear that I might be messing with my mind irrevocably... I might end up with two minds in one body... or one mind in two bodies, I'm not really sure... but the fear isn't mine, is it? The fear is too distant. So I do it; I couldn't say how, but it was easy, almost natural; it's the way things should be.

Perhaps not so unusually, there is absolutely no problem with miscommunication; we aren't 'speaking' with each other in any sense of the word. It is more as if almost all analytical and observational thought is simply shared between us. The body's newfound ability to think and observe independently is sensed in the background of my own thought, and vice versa; I simply know the body feels the same because it allows me to know. As another example, I need not more than notice a hole in Pai Mei's defenses or my own for my body to attack or defend it appropriately... and when I notice certain holes in Pai Mei's defenses are traps, and recognize a counter that may be performed with my body's current condition and balance, my body immediately follows the suggestion and gives me a mental thumbs up.

This is a really weird technique, I think. Weird, but cool. While allowing my body to defend itself for a few moments, I wonder for a moment what other techniques might be built around it, and how far I can drift from my body. I can really imagine this technique being great when I get bored during classes at school, especially if I can wander into a nearby theater. What is the limit of my range? Could I learn to lift things with this unusual existence by focusing ki? My body grins internally at that thought. Then we really could fight in tandem. We? We're just one person, right? Right. My body agrees with me.

Then, in my moment of inattention, my body sends me vague signals of Pai Mei bypassing my body's defense in a moment of weakness, causing it to stumble backwards. After five quick fiery punches to my chest, I can feel the arythmic beating of my body's heart pounding loudly, demanding attention. Pai Mei simply backs up and watches with arms crossed as my body regains standing position, then steps forward, painfully slow. After five steps, the body collapses, and I ... vanish.

After what feels like forever, but couldn't be more than six to ten seconds, I shove myself back to standing position. I feel hurt, drained, dead tired in the most literal sense, as though I'm about to fall over and die or just did. Even as I stagger to my feet, the intense pain in my chest fades away. I turn my gaze to my tormentor and glare daggers at Pai Mei, then settle back once more into a lazy ready stance. Whatever was going on in my head before, the Zenkeigan technique, is gone. I shudder, although I'm ambiguous as to whether it is with fear for what I did to my head, or in exhileration for the future promise of that technique.

Pai Mei stares back, arms crossed but eyes wide. Astonishment is plain on his face. He drops his arms to his sides, but instead of dropping into combat stance or hurling insults at me, he just says, "Well, child, I'm impressed. Join me in the temple and I may choose to aid you, although I do have some questions." With that, he turns around and walks into the temple building itself.

I spend a few minutes looking around at the grounds. Craters pecker the cobblestone walkway. Divets tear into the otherwise perfectly kept grass. Only one Buddha statue, one nearest the temple building, remains standing. My own gi is ruined, although it still covers enough to be legally decent. I glance at the koi pond in time to see another koi plop into it.

Then I turn and follow Pai Mei into the temple proper.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Author Note:

Pai Mei is modeled loosely from Pai Mei in Kill Bill, although he's willing to speak Japanese and happens to have Ranma-verse level martial arts. Insults are obtained and adjusted from

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New Techniques in This Chapter:

Hiseiken – Holy Fire Fist (possible alternative: Joukaken, or Sacred Fire Fist); This technique sets the hands ablaze with holy cleansing white flames. The fire is spiritual in nature, capable of damaging many demons immune or resistant to natural flame, in addition to being just that... white-hot natural flame capable of melting metal, heating stone, and scorching flesh with third-degree burns at a touch. The flames may be thrown at a moderate velocity, but are easy to dodge. It takes a great deal of ki reserves to use for any great duration, but not as much as big blow-things-up techs like Shi Shi Houkodan or Moko Takabisha. Used by: Pai Mei

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Washi Tsumetetsu – Eagle Iron Claw; This technique involves forming a claw with your fingers and thumb, then using ki to strengthen the fingers. A master gains neko-ken claw style 'sharpness' to the fingertips, capable of cutting from a short distance (a few centimeters, as opposed to the couple feet granted by nekoken). This claw can be used to cut into the opponent with a thrust, or slash the opponent up. It is easy to use quickly and continuously, and has power equal to the hand-to-hand yamasenken techniques. Used by: Pai Mei

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Zenkeigan – (very roughly) Insightful All-Seeing Eyes. This is an internal technique similar in some ways to Soul of Ice from the normal Ranma-verse. The effect of using this is almost hallucinogenic in nature; the user feels detached from his or her body completely in something similar to an out-of-body experience, and observes the fight from a distance. The user sees, feels, smells, hears, tastes everywhere in the immediate vicinity at once, in addition to whatever other senses you have. However, as with eyes, the user must focus on just one thing at a time and the rest is peripheral. Not all of the mind is detached; from the outside perspective, the body continues to fight with all of its normal skill within the limits of its attention. From the body's perspective, its attention is wandering dangerously and can actually see and contemplate all sorts of things the person wouldn't normally see or contemplate during battle. Any pain, fear, anger, arousal, hope, etc. is sensed but it feels vaguely like it's happening to someone else. Be careful; like drugs, misuse of this technique could affect the mind permanently. Used By: Ranma