Arc Two: Mastery
Chapter Seven: A Sword in the Sky
The streets of Tokyo were bustling with activity at this time of the day, and Saotome Ranma strolled through the streets, enjoying the fact that, for a change, no one seemed out to marry him or kill him. In this part of Tokyo, no one even seemed to know him, and he was very grateful for that. He was free…free of all his obligations, free of all his duties, free of his glutton of a father. And he thoroughly enjoyed that freedom. Taking his time to do something he hadn't done for a long time, watching other people, he slowly worked his way towards the outskirts of the city.
That was when a small store caught his eye, one that didn't fit in with the surrounding electronics stores and shopping centers. Wondering why this particular shop had drawn his attention, the pig-tailed martial artist headed over.
It was an antiques store, holding dozens of family heirlooms, knicknacks and the occasional piece of art or jewelry. A tiny bell hung over the door chimed as he stepped over the threshold and looked around. In a corner of the room, on a dull black display stand, rested the distinct curved shape of a katana, sheathed in a dull black sheath that seemed to draw him towards it. Ranma stood before the weapon, not taking his eyes off it, engrossed in the sheer calm it radiated. "An interesting piece of work, eh?" The new voice broke him out of his reverie. "Huh?" Ranma replied intelligently. The owner of the store was an elderly man, around his eighties, Ranma surmised, with a shock of white hair and a look of peace on his lined face that seemed to match that of the sword perfectly.
"That sword. It's something special, indeed, isn't it?" He smiled slightly as Ranma nodded. "You're a martial artist. You can feel what's special about it, can't you?" The youth nodded once again. "It seems…calm. Content. It's not like any sword I've ever seen," he finally said, after thinking about it. What is it about this sword? Ranma wondered idly. "That is, because this sword has never taken a life, yet been used to protect the people. Go on, pick it up."
Ranma did as he was told, and slowly, almost reverently, picked up the sheathed weapon. One hand firmly on the hilt, he slowly drew out a part of the blade, and noticed the many nicks and scratches it had accumulated. And despite the fact that it seemed to have seen much use during its past, it gleamed even in the dull gloom of the store, polished to perfection. Then Ranma noticed another thing. The blade of the sword as on the wrong side.
"What is this?" He turned to the storekeeper. "The blade's wrong."
The older man chuckled. "That is because it is a Sakabatou." "A reverse blade?" It dawned upon Ranma what the man had meant when he had said that this blade had never taken a life. With a sword like this, it was nearly impossible to kill. Then there was the distinct aura of ki around it that he couldn't quite make sense of. "Old man?" he asked in a low voice that, surprisingly, didn't sound the least bit disrespectful. "Yes, young one?"
"What is it about this sword?"
The storekeeper smiled. "It is old. Before the time of the Meiji Era, during the Tokugawa Shogunate, there was a war. And during the Bakumatsu, many were killed who opposed the new government, finally resulting in the new Imperialist government of the Meiji Era. During the fighting there were those men called 'Hitokiri'."
"Assassins?" Ranma whispered. The man nodded. "Yes. Assassins, or manslayers. They fought for their side, killing those who opposed them without mercy or regret. They always worked alone, always in the shadows. They were the best swordsmen of their time. One of them was said to be undefeated, having mastered, no, perfected, the art of Battojutsu, earning himself the name 'Hitokiri Battousai'. This man killed countless people during the war, saving many Imperialist lives with his actions. However, he vanished without a trace at the end of the war." Taking a deep breath, the old man continued. "Years later he was said to have reappeared in Tokyo as a wanderer at a nearby kendo dojo, of the Kamiya Kasshin style. After the war, the murderous assassin, the legendary Hitokiri Battousai, had become rurouni."
Rurouni. A wandering swordsman without master, going where his feet take him and following only his own code of honor. Ranma almost smiled at how much that resembled his situation at the moment.
The man took the sword from Ranma's hands and drew it fully. "He traded his sword for a reverse blade, swearing never to take a life again, yet to protect the people around him. This was his sword." Ranma stared at the blade in awe, as the storekeeper added, "His name was Himura Kenshin, and his style, the Hiten Mitsurugi." He replaced the sword on its stand and turned around, leaving Ranma to his thoughts. "Old man?" the youth called out once more.
"Yes?"
"Why did he become rurouni?"
The old man sighed. "It is said that during the end of the war he killed someone whom he cared for deeply, a woman by the name of Yukishiro Tomoe. Before the Bakumatsu, Himura slew her faincee, and she vowed revenge on him. She pretended to be his wife during an incident in Kyoto and followed him to a mountain refuge, where she would have killed him, too, if they hadn't fallen in love with each other. Unfortunately, during the course of an accident, he fatally wounded her with his sword, and she died in his arms. Later, he was forced to slay her best friend, who had become obsessed with revenge, one Shiranui Mai." Yukishiro Tomoe. The name flashed through Ranma's head. That's the girl Ryoko mentioned, and his daughter. "She was said to have perfected the School of Mugen Tenketsu," the storekeeper added. The boy continued to stare at the sword, even as the storekeeper left him with the words, "The Hiten Mitsurugi and the Mugen Tenketsu are not practiced anymore, having been sealed away because of their deadly nature."
A wanderer to protect the people around him, eh? Ranma mused. This sword…it's so tranquil…Isn't that what I'm doing? Isn't that a martial artist's duty? To protect the people? Screw Pops, if he says weapons are for weaklings. This Himura guy…Ranma grinned. I wish I could have met him.
Half an hour later, he walked out of the store, the sakabatou at his side.
V----------------------------------------V
Not a sound was heard deep in the woods, except for a slight hiss as the metal blade of a sword flashed through the air. Ranma whirled around, the blade of the sakabatou twitching and turning, flicking from defensive stances to striking invisible foes with deadly accuracy. In a final thrust, Ranma's blurred form solidified, the sword held out at arms length, tip pointed outwards at eye level. The blade was as heavy as any metal katana, yet in his hands it seemed strangely light, and the kata came with ease, as if he had been practicing his whole life.
Sheathing the weapon, the pig-tailed martial artist turned around and stuck the sheath into a makeshift belt. Instinctively, he flowed into a low stance, his right foot forwards, supporting most of his weigth on his bent back leg. His left hand rested on the hilt guard of the sakabatou, his right hand slowly coming up, touching the hilt. The second he touched the grip of the sword, the kata began, a lighting-fast series of strikes, faster than anything Kuno had ever produced, and rivalling the Kachuu Tenshin Amaguri-Ken in sheer speed. Panting hard, Ranma came to a stop and returned the blade to its scabbard.
Shaking his head as if to clear it, the pig-tailed martial artist wandered back to his campsite, idly thinking about what had just occurred. Odd. I've never even trained with swords, much less a katana. So how did I know those moves? The answer was simple, he thought. I didn't. They just came…instinctively. But how? He set the sword down and decided to do something he hadn't done in a long time. Meditate.
Settling down into a lotus position, the youth calmed his mind and slowed his breath. He could feel the ki in the forest around him, full of life and activity, the energy literally pouring from every little hole. Stretching his senses further, he noticed a strange ki coming from the sakabatou, and he examined it closer. Zeroing in on the signature the blade gave off, he ignored the sensations around him. The sea of calmness and tranquility was suddenly replaced by flashes of light and visions of swords clashing. Ranma looked around and found himself caught in a vision. Before him stood a young man of mediocre height with flaming red hair nearly the color of his girl-form's and a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek. He was dressed in a traditional gi and hakama, with a purplish yukata that seemed to fit him, and carried a sword by his side.
Facing the strange man was a taller man, wearing a sort of old-style police uniform Ranma recognized from the history books as that of a police swordsman of the Meiji Era. Then, the vision started and people around him started to fade into sight. More policemen appeared, as did a crowd around them. A young boy, a girl, and two men were bound and kneeling on the ground, while the crowd around them protested. The police swordsman sneered. "Arrest them all. I authorize the use of swords. Make an example of them." The red-haired man stepped up at this point, and Ranma watched transfixed as the events unfolded before him.
"Wait. You will not harm these people. If you wish to fight, then this one will be your opponent." In a flash, his sword was drawn and ready. Ranma recognized the reverse blade as the light gleamed off the sharpened side of the sword. The people around stopped running, and the police swordsmen froze the instant they heard the distinctive rasp of metal against wood as the sword left its sheath. The tall man grinned cruelly and drew his own weapon. "Now that self-defense has been established…kill him." With a yell, the rest of his squad charged the swordsman, and Ranma prepared for a complete slaughter. He might not have the faintest clue why he was having this vision, but he respected the man's courage. It was totally pointless to go up against the dozen or so armed policemen alone, but it was courageous, nonetheless.
Then, his eyes widened as the impossible seemed to happen. The swordsman blurred and vanished, and the police swordsmen were buffeted around in the air, and were taking a severe beating, if the successive impact sounds that reached his ears were any indication. A mere ten seconds later, it was over and the swordsman reappeared from a leap, blade in his left hand, casually resting it in the crook of his arm, yet ready to use it again in an instant. Then, the policemen behind him collapsed. "Now it's only you left. Swear that you will never oppress your people again, and you may arrest this one for carrying a sword and assaulting an officer of the law, and we can end this."
With an enraged roar the leader of the policemen charged at the swordsman, his European-style rapier held chin high, ready for a devastating strike. Ranma barely recognized it as one of the advanced forms of the Kenjutsu Jigen-Ryu. Again, the swordsman amazed his audience by leaping up and kicking off the wall, turning in mid-air and raking the blunt side of his sword across his opponent's back. The policeman collapsed, unconscious, and Ranma realized he must have hit some of the sleep-incuding pressure points on the back. Incredible…That kind of accuracy with the blunt blade of a sword…
Then, a new squad of policemen arrived, holding on steady to the swordsman and another woman, as well as the child that had been bound before. "Hold it! You are a fugitive from the law and assailed police swordsmen! You are under arrest!" A voice that commanded respect called out from the back, interrupting the policeman. "Wait. Do you know who you're talking to?" The policeman glanced at the swordsman. "That is Himura Kenshin, the Hitokiri Battousai…" A tall man in a regal looking uniform emerged from behind the crowd as it parted for him. "He saved many an Imperialist's life during the Bakumatsu." Ranma froze. Himura…Kenshin…
"Hello Yamagata-san. That's a fine mustache you have there." The swordsman smiled as the policemen let him go. "I've been looking for you these last ten years. I have come to you with an offer. I have a carriage we can discuss it in." The swordsman never lost his smile as he shook his head. "We can discuss it right here." The older man sighed and gave a small smile of his own. "That is so like you to say, Himura. You are a hero, and I have come to offer you a high-ranking position in the government. Together, we could make a difference. Your old comrades from the revolution are waiting for you."
The swordsman just shook his head again. "This one has no wish to join the government." "So you were serious. You leaving without a trace ten years ago was truly an act of defiance to never kill again." Himura just smiled once more as he replied, "This one does not seek political power as a reward for manslaughter, de gozaru." The older man's eyes flashed.
"Himura! It is true that you killed people, but it was for the revolution! There is no guilt on your conscience! If someone dares to say otherwise I will…" "Use your power to force them to accept it?" Himura kept up his smile. "It is thinking like that which creates corrupt people like them," he said, indicating the unconsicous police swordsmen before continuing, "We took up our swords and killed not for political power or money. We did it to bring a peaceful time where everyone was equal. If you should ever forget these ideals…then what have we fought for?" "But, Himura, you must realize, with the swords ban, the days of the samurai are over. One man doesn't have enough power to protect everyone!" Yamagata told him.
"But this one is one sword, and it is enough if this one can protect, even if it is just the people this one lives with, or the ones on the street, de gozaru yo. This one is no different from before. Except that this one is now a runouni, and not a hitokiri." With that, he turned around and walked away.
The vision faded away, leaving Ranma alone in the woods again. His campfire was flickering, the flames slowly dying as it burned the last of the wood. The sun was setting, and the cold evening air was beginning to sweep through the valley. He opened his eyes and stared at the sword before him. Jumbled thoughts raced through his mind as he attempted to place the vision. Was it real? Did it really happen like that? Was that really Himura Kenshin? The pig-tailed martial artist glanced around, taking first notice of the descending darkness. That was some dream, he thought.
V----------------------------------------V
Ranma stuck the tip the blade of the sakabatou into the ground and brought it up in a vertical arc that stopped with the sword pointing at the sky above his head. "Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu, Do-Ryu-Sen!" The blast of rocks and earth that flew up along a line that ran from the sword to a tree five meters away rained down slowly, and Ranma was once more left panting. Holding the sword in his right hand, he slowly went through the motions of sheathing it. The movements now came with practiced ease. He had been meditating a lot, lately, to calm his mind and in the hopes of an inspiration to master the Neko-Ken. So far, however, none had been forthcoming. He had, however, experienced more dreams of Himura Kenshin fighting, and he was amazed at what the man had managed to accomplish without seriously hurting or killing anyone, despite the greatest adversity.
The images had given the pig-tailed martial artist a completely new outlook on the art of swordfighting. Despite all his father may say, if only half of what he had witnessed in his dreams was true, then that Himura Kenshin was one powerful individual. During the visions he had taken to carefully observing how the swordsman fought and learned from him, subconsciously incorporating the moves into his own style of Anything-Goes.
He slowly settled the sword aside and began his unarmed training. Expanding his ki senses, he took in the forest around him, the life that was teeming that day. He had been wandering for quite a while now, and he figured he was close to Okhayama somewhere. At least, so he hoped. I'd never live it down if I pulled a Ryoga and got lost on my training trip, Ranma thought with an internal grin.
Although I do want to see the look on his face when I take him on with the sword. Then, with a startling suddenness, he realized he had felt calm and content the last few weeks. He had felt at peace, despite all the trouble that waited for him at home. Must be that ki signature the sword's giving off. I'm still amazed this Kenshin guy did all that without killing anyone. But if I think about his past…if what I heard was true, if he was really that merciless an assassin…I can understand why he never wanted to kill again. The Art could be too deadly in the wrong hands, and maybe it's the peaceful aura of the sword that…his thoughts trailed off as he smacked himself on the forehead and landed on his butt for not paying attention.
"That's it! That's how I've been learning! That sword…the ki infused in it… It's gotta be some sort of manual! Why haven't I thought of that before!" The boy raced over to the sakabatou and removed the blade from the sheath. Focusing his ki senses on the blade he could make out the distinctive ki pattern it emanated. The feeling of peace and serenity he felt every time he held it washed over him, and he dug deeper into the swirling vortices of ki that wrapped around the sword. A wide grin nearly split his face in half when he could make out distinctive ki flows and patters beneath the cover of tranquility.
A victorious yell of "YATTA!" reverberated throughout the forest.
V----------------------------------------V
The sun was setting as he went through the kata. The backyard of his home was quiet, and the last rays of the sun reflected off the gleaming metal spikes that formed the skeleton of his fans. As Ryoko ended the kata, he stared out into the sunset, wondering whether he and Happosai had made the right decision. It was all up to the boy now. The single boy who had more girl troubles than most playboys of the world put together. The single boy who had enough super-powered martial artists after his hide to wipe out a small army. The single boy who had overcome the impossible time and time again.
His attention focused as he felt a familiar ki signature on the wall. "Hello, Happosai. What brings you here?" The diminuitive grandmaster of Anything-Goes jumped down from his perch and eyed the man before him for a moment. "I was just thinking. Did we make the right choice?" Ryoko laughed dryly. "I have absolutely no clue. We don't know what the future holds, or what the boy will have to go through, but he is the most determined and strong-willed person I've ever met. If anyone is going to be the heir to Anything-Goes, I'd rather it's him."
Happosai nodded his assent. "Yes, but did we make the right choice? There is no known record of anyone ever mastering the Neko-Ken. It always ended in the insanity of the student. I don't want to loose Ranma to that." Shaking his head, the taller man thought a moment before answering. "No. As long as Ranma falls prey to the Neko-Ken, he is unpredictable. A wild card that can harm his allies as much as his enemies. It is a weakness that can be exploited, and, one day, someone is going to use it to destroy him. I won't stand for that," he paused slightly. "If anyone can master it, it's Ranma."
"Still, it's not going to be easy for the boy," Happosai sighed. "When have things ever been easy for Ranma?" Ryoko shot back. Happosai glanced up at his friend. "You know something I don't." "What makes you say that?" The ancient grandmaster took a moment before replying. "You're hinting that something big is coming this way. Does it have anything to do with your sister? Or that lady that came with you?" Ryoko nodded. "You missed out on quite a bit while Ranma was here. A demon kidnapped Kasumi. He had the help of a goddess."
Nearly choking on his pipe, Happosai fell off the wall. "What?" "You heard me. A demon and goddess. They're after Ranma. He has incredible potential, and incredible power. He's a pretty strong nexus of chaotic forces, and they want to use that to do…well, you know it can't be good, whatever they're up to." Ryoko sighed. "Hild has sealed them both in Niflheim, but I get the feeling that they won't be kept down that easily."
Happosai nodded. "That boy has incredible power and great potential…I just hope he learns how to use it wisely." Ryoko nodded in agreement. "If not…I don't want to think about what could happen if the boy is ever corrupted."