Ranma; Just Plain Hard
"I want you to teach my son your technique that rids men of their fear," Genma said simply to the large black man sitting at the bar of the Non-Commissioned Officer's club.
The man leaned back, and looked at the Japanese martial artist, "So, you want me to teach your son to be Hard, 'zat it, B?"
"Er, I believe it is," the balding martial artist replied, keeping eye contact with the man he knew as 'Anvil'.
"Shit, G, I ain't in tha game no more," Anvil replied, while waving the bartender over for another round, "Can't do nutt'n for ya."
"Please, I beg you, it's a matter of life and death!" Genma pleaded, almost dropping to his knees.
"Look, I ain't click'n no more, ya hear? I said..."
"I'm not asking you to take up the art once again," Genma said solomnly, "But it would be a shame to allow your style to die out because it isn't passed onto another of the next generation." Genma waved over to his son, who was looking curiously at the American women who were cooing over how adorable he was.
Anvil looked at the man's son, and gave a slight smirk, "You want your kid that bad to be bang'n? 'Aight, hold up," the black man asked the bartender for a pen and paper, and started to write down an address and phone number, "Yo, you get to the U.S., go to L.A. and look this Nigga up, he'll hook you up, coo'?"
Genma bowed deeply, "We are in your debt, great warrior."
Anvil bobbed his head in reply, "Now get outta here, O.G., before the base MPs jump your ass or someth'n." Genma nodded back, grabbed his son, and left.
*********************************
"From there, we made our trip to the U.S., it was a grueling trek, but fortunately the seas had been calm for the most part..."
"Saotome, you mean to tell me you *swam* the Pacific, all the way to America?" Soun asked incredulously with no small amount of respect to his training partner.
"Yes, the life of a martial artist is fraught with hardships and peril," Genma stated solomnly, before a pack of flour connected with his head and exploded.
"You fuck'n lying as Bitch," Ranma shouted from the kitchen, " Your ass nearly drowned before we even got close to Hawaii. Lucky your fool ass was spotted by that fishing boat!"
"Oh Ranma," Kasumi's voice sounded from the kitchen, "now I will have to clean that up."
"Oh, my bad, chica, my bad!"
"Anyhow," continued a powder white Genma, "we finally arrived in Southern California to an intense training ground known as 'Long Beach'..."
*********************************
Genma looked around, and found the apartment number of the motel converted to apartment that he was looking for, and knocked.
::CLICK::
::KA-CLICK, CLICKCLICK, CLI-CLICK, CLICKCLICKCLICK, SHING, CLICK, KLACK...::
Genma sweated from all the guns that were pointing out from the crack in the door. After swallowing to get some moisture back into his throat, Genma replied, "Uhhhhh, I believe we have the wrong number..." The large martial artist turned to his son and told him to start running, quickly.
"But Pop, this is the house Anvil-san said we were supposed to go to," Ranma argued.
The man behind the door heard the familiar name, "Ho-ho-hold up! You know Anvil?"
"Uuuuuhhhhh, yes?" Genma asked, hoping the name would spare his life.
"Oh SNAP! I hadn't Seen that nigga in ages!!!!" The door opened up to a short wirey man wearing a Black bandanna over his head with Oakley shades. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and baggy jeans that sagged so much they showed his boxers with the heart patterns on them, "What he up to anyway? Last I heard his ass got shipped out in the military or sumpth'n."
"Yes, we met, and hold each other in high regard," Genma said with more confidence than before, particularly since he didn't foresee his life in much danger anymore, "I presume your the Higga, Herman Holloway..."
::CLICK::
"YO, I DON'T WANNA BE HEAR'N THAT NAME!!!" Higga shouted, while holding a gun barrel in Genma's left nostril. The gangsta then noticed Genma and his son's attire, "You guys do that Kung-fu shit?"
"Uuuhhh, among others," Genma replied carefully.
"Well, shit, yo, show me what you got!" Higga put his gun away and was grinning. Genma blinked, and walked out to the nearly empty parking lot. He and his son took opposing positions, and went into stance. With a cry of 'Yamete', both practitioners were airborne. Higga was startled to say the least, as both fighters traded blows in the air, before landing where the other began. With barely a pause, they both turned back around and once again went into fighting.
"DAAAYYYYMMMMNNNN!!!! That's some fuck'n Kobe Bryant hang time shit right there!!!" He exclaimed exitedly, as the battle waged on. Once he had been thoroughly impressed and both fighters had gotten a decent workout, he congradulated them.
"Shit, B, I gotta give my props! That was fucking tight! When you gonna show me how to do that shit?"
Genma was about to speak otherwise, before he realized the position he had, "Hmm, Mr. Higga, perhaps we can help each other out..."
"Oh, yo let's get to talk'n in my office, den. It ain't healthy for Ricey's to be hang'n outside in this hood..."
*********************************
"And that was the beginning of Ranma's training in the technique of the 'Hard'." Genma polished his glasses, before continuing, "He would train Ranma in how to rid himself of his fear, while the other free times I would teach him our art. It was a fair tradeoff, but alas, Ranma was having difficulty adapting to the Higga's unorthodox teaching style..."
*********************************
"Yo, little B, I keep tell'n ya, if you wanna live in the Ghetto, you gotta UNDERSTAND tha Ghetto!" Higga said, exasperatedly, "Less' do this again, now, what do you do when someone steps to yo' ass and rides ya like a bitch?"
"I... tell him he better get to stepping?" Ranma replied, speaking the English he had picked up from his present instructor.
"Word, and what you do when he keep's punk'n on ya?"
"I bust a cap in his foo' ass?"
"Oh snap! You already be'n a G!" Higga handed Ranma a gun, and continued, "Okay, yo, now go up to that bitch that was mad dog'n yo ass, and put him in his fuck'n place!"
Ranma got an expression of determination, and took the gun. Genma walked up to his son's instructor, "Um, Mr. Higga, not to go against your wisdom of your school, but do you think it was wise to hand my son such a weapon?"
"Oh, yo, don't sweat it, O.G., thing ain't loaded."
"Y-y-you sent my son up against HIM with an unloaded gun?" Genma studdered incredulously, as he looked towards the large bald man who was bulging with muscles and concieled firearms.
::BAMN!!!::
"Heh, snap, handed Ranma the wrong gun..."
*********************************
"Fortunately, the bullet didn't kill, but we would not be around for when he awoke from his coma," Genma replied, calmly, "That was a marking point in Ranma's training, as it was his first victory with the technique, he started improving dramatically, until..."
*********************************
Ranma and his father were sparring to keep up the pigtailed boy's form. As usual, Genma was holding back enough to give his son an intense workout, but not enough to totally overwhelm him. The bald martial artist was beginning to frown, as he noticed his son becoming more fustrated and angrier the longer it went. He had trained his son intensely to use his emotions proficiently; to not let anger overtake you, but allow it to focus you. It was becoming apparent that he was going to have to show his son the folly of his ways. Genma stepped up his skill level a few notches to end it quickly...
::CRACK!!!!::
Both fighters landed, Ranma on his feet, Genma on his stomach. Ranma looked at the broken baseball bat in his hands in wonder, while Higga was whistling and clapping from the sidelines.
"Oh SHIT! That was fucking HARD... UP!!!"
*********************************
"Breakthrough. From that moment on, Ranma had become an impressive force of the art, even I began to have sincere difficulty with him, even at such a young age..." Genma struck a traditional stoic Japanese pose of regret, "If I had known the side effects of Ranma's training, I would have ceased it all immidiately, but I did't realize until it was too late. Ranma started to question me often...
*********************************
"Yo, O.G. Sensei," Higga replied with a bow of respect to Genma, "I be honored to carry on the teachings of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial arts, and use my phat skillz to be help'n Niggas and ho's in destress, that coo'?"
"You honor my school with your nobility and pledge," Genma responded with a bow just as deep. Higga stuck his hand out, and Genma grasped it to shake. They then switche the grip to locking fingertips together, and then simultaniously pulled each other in to ram their forearm into the other's chest, while patting the other on the back with their free hand."
"You get goin', teach, you don't wanna miss yo plane and have to be swimm'n back, now."
Ranma and Genma left, though Ranma had reservations, "Why we headn' back, Pops? We can stay and be liv'n large on tha thug life, yo!"
"Ranma, though your training has been effective in improving your skill and ridding your fear of cats, we must continue to train further for your improvement. That would require us to return to Japan."
"But yo, Pop, I can stomp your ass! And you the best there is there, right?"
Genma was a bit shocked, and didn't know how to reply to that...
*********************************
"Eventually, he even began to disobey me, and grow contemptuous towards me as his sensei. Then, Ranma became out of control, and the results are what you have witnessed of my son."
"Truly it is a dangerous technique to its bearer, I weep for your son," Soun said, solomnly.
"I want you to teach my son your technique that rids men of their fear," Genma said simply to the large black man sitting at the bar of the Non-Commissioned Officer's club.
The man leaned back, and looked at the Japanese martial artist, "So, you want me to teach your son to be Hard, 'zat it, B?"
"Er, I believe it is," the balding martial artist replied, keeping eye contact with the man he knew as 'Anvil'.
"Shit, G, I ain't in tha game no more," Anvil replied, while waving the bartender over for another round, "Can't do nutt'n for ya."
"Please, I beg you, it's a matter of life and death!" Genma pleaded, almost dropping to his knees.
"Look, I ain't click'n no more, ya hear? I said..."
"I'm not asking you to take up the art once again," Genma said solomnly, "But it would be a shame to allow your style to die out because it isn't passed onto another of the next generation." Genma waved over to his son, who was looking curiously at the American women who were cooing over how adorable he was.
Anvil looked at the man's son, and gave a slight smirk, "You want your kid that bad to be bang'n? 'Aight, hold up," the black man asked the bartender for a pen and paper, and started to write down an address and phone number, "Yo, you get to the U.S., go to L.A. and look this Nigga up, he'll hook you up, coo'?"
Genma bowed deeply, "We are in your debt, great warrior."
Anvil bobbed his head in reply, "Now get outta here, O.G., before the base MPs jump your ass or someth'n." Genma nodded back, grabbed his son, and left.
*********************************
"From there, we made our trip to the U.S., it was a grueling trek, but fortunately the seas had been calm for the most part..."
"Saotome, you mean to tell me you *swam* the Pacific, all the way to America?" Soun asked incredulously with no small amount of respect to his training partner.
"Yes, the life of a martial artist is fraught with hardships and peril," Genma stated solomnly, before a pack of flour connected with his head and exploded.
"You fuck'n lying as Bitch," Ranma shouted from the kitchen, " Your ass nearly drowned before we even got close to Hawaii. Lucky your fool ass was spotted by that fishing boat!"
"Oh Ranma," Kasumi's voice sounded from the kitchen, "now I will have to clean that up."
"Oh, my bad, chica, my bad!"
"Anyhow," continued a powder white Genma, "we finally arrived in Southern California to an intense training ground known as 'Long Beach'..."
*********************************
Genma looked around, and found the apartment number of the motel converted to apartment that he was looking for, and knocked.
::CLICK::
::KA-CLICK, CLICKCLICK, CLI-CLICK, CLICKCLICKCLICK, SHING, CLICK, KLACK...::
Genma sweated from all the guns that were pointing out from the crack in the door. After swallowing to get some moisture back into his throat, Genma replied, "Uhhhhh, I believe we have the wrong number..." The large martial artist turned to his son and told him to start running, quickly.
"But Pop, this is the house Anvil-san said we were supposed to go to," Ranma argued.
The man behind the door heard the familiar name, "Ho-ho-hold up! You know Anvil?"
"Uuuuuhhhhh, yes?" Genma asked, hoping the name would spare his life.
"Oh SNAP! I hadn't Seen that nigga in ages!!!!" The door opened up to a short wirey man wearing a Black bandanna over his head with Oakley shades. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and baggy jeans that sagged so much they showed his boxers with the heart patterns on them, "What he up to anyway? Last I heard his ass got shipped out in the military or sumpth'n."
"Yes, we met, and hold each other in high regard," Genma said with more confidence than before, particularly since he didn't foresee his life in much danger anymore, "I presume your the Higga, Herman Holloway..."
::CLICK::
"YO, I DON'T WANNA BE HEAR'N THAT NAME!!!" Higga shouted, while holding a gun barrel in Genma's left nostril. The gangsta then noticed Genma and his son's attire, "You guys do that Kung-fu shit?"
"Uuuhhh, among others," Genma replied carefully.
"Well, shit, yo, show me what you got!" Higga put his gun away and was grinning. Genma blinked, and walked out to the nearly empty parking lot. He and his son took opposing positions, and went into stance. With a cry of 'Yamete', both practitioners were airborne. Higga was startled to say the least, as both fighters traded blows in the air, before landing where the other began. With barely a pause, they both turned back around and once again went into fighting.
"DAAAYYYYMMMMNNNN!!!! That's some fuck'n Kobe Bryant hang time shit right there!!!" He exclaimed exitedly, as the battle waged on. Once he had been thoroughly impressed and both fighters had gotten a decent workout, he congradulated them.
"Shit, B, I gotta give my props! That was fucking tight! When you gonna show me how to do that shit?"
Genma was about to speak otherwise, before he realized the position he had, "Hmm, Mr. Higga, perhaps we can help each other out..."
"Oh, yo let's get to talk'n in my office, den. It ain't healthy for Ricey's to be hang'n outside in this hood..."
*********************************
"And that was the beginning of Ranma's training in the technique of the 'Hard'." Genma polished his glasses, before continuing, "He would train Ranma in how to rid himself of his fear, while the other free times I would teach him our art. It was a fair tradeoff, but alas, Ranma was having difficulty adapting to the Higga's unorthodox teaching style..."
*********************************
"Yo, little B, I keep tell'n ya, if you wanna live in the Ghetto, you gotta UNDERSTAND tha Ghetto!" Higga said, exasperatedly, "Less' do this again, now, what do you do when someone steps to yo' ass and rides ya like a bitch?"
"I... tell him he better get to stepping?" Ranma replied, speaking the English he had picked up from his present instructor.
"Word, and what you do when he keep's punk'n on ya?"
"I bust a cap in his foo' ass?"
"Oh snap! You already be'n a G!" Higga handed Ranma a gun, and continued, "Okay, yo, now go up to that bitch that was mad dog'n yo ass, and put him in his fuck'n place!"
Ranma got an expression of determination, and took the gun. Genma walked up to his son's instructor, "Um, Mr. Higga, not to go against your wisdom of your school, but do you think it was wise to hand my son such a weapon?"
"Oh, yo, don't sweat it, O.G., thing ain't loaded."
"Y-y-you sent my son up against HIM with an unloaded gun?" Genma studdered incredulously, as he looked towards the large bald man who was bulging with muscles and concieled firearms.
::BAMN!!!::
"Heh, snap, handed Ranma the wrong gun..."
*********************************
"Fortunately, the bullet didn't kill, but we would not be around for when he awoke from his coma," Genma replied, calmly, "That was a marking point in Ranma's training, as it was his first victory with the technique, he started improving dramatically, until..."
*********************************
Ranma and his father were sparring to keep up the pigtailed boy's form. As usual, Genma was holding back enough to give his son an intense workout, but not enough to totally overwhelm him. The bald martial artist was beginning to frown, as he noticed his son becoming more fustrated and angrier the longer it went. He had trained his son intensely to use his emotions proficiently; to not let anger overtake you, but allow it to focus you. It was becoming apparent that he was going to have to show his son the folly of his ways. Genma stepped up his skill level a few notches to end it quickly...
::CRACK!!!!::
Both fighters landed, Ranma on his feet, Genma on his stomach. Ranma looked at the broken baseball bat in his hands in wonder, while Higga was whistling and clapping from the sidelines.
"Oh SHIT! That was fucking HARD... UP!!!"
*********************************
"Breakthrough. From that moment on, Ranma had become an impressive force of the art, even I began to have sincere difficulty with him, even at such a young age..." Genma struck a traditional stoic Japanese pose of regret, "If I had known the side effects of Ranma's training, I would have ceased it all immidiately, but I did't realize until it was too late. Ranma started to question me often...
*********************************
"Yo, O.G. Sensei," Higga replied with a bow of respect to Genma, "I be honored to carry on the teachings of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial arts, and use my phat skillz to be help'n Niggas and ho's in destress, that coo'?"
"You honor my school with your nobility and pledge," Genma responded with a bow just as deep. Higga stuck his hand out, and Genma grasped it to shake. They then switche the grip to locking fingertips together, and then simultaniously pulled each other in to ram their forearm into the other's chest, while patting the other on the back with their free hand."
"You get goin', teach, you don't wanna miss yo plane and have to be swimm'n back, now."
Ranma and Genma left, though Ranma had reservations, "Why we headn' back, Pops? We can stay and be liv'n large on tha thug life, yo!"
"Ranma, though your training has been effective in improving your skill and ridding your fear of cats, we must continue to train further for your improvement. That would require us to return to Japan."
"But yo, Pop, I can stomp your ass! And you the best there is there, right?"
Genma was a bit shocked, and didn't know how to reply to that...
*********************************
"Eventually, he even began to disobey me, and grow contemptuous towards me as his sensei. Then, Ranma became out of control, and the results are what you have witnessed of my son."
"Truly it is a dangerous technique to its bearer, I weep for your son," Soun said, solomnly.