Dark Titans – Arc 2 - Big Trouble In Little Tokyo
Chapter Four
Enjoy if you will, Tolerate if you won't.
His flailing limb tore through the air, slashing through a nearby beam with the horrid precision of a razor. He didn't even notice the contact, didn't register the angry groan of shifting lumber that filled the air around him. The dark figure slammed his hands to his skull, clutching the slick parchment which covered the bone with a manic intensity. The sensation of ripping paper was excruciating, as he tore the stained material away; splattering it against the walls and floor, graphic content in a black and white world.
He howled then, ink painting the ceiling above him, but not from the pain. Rather, the indescribable feeling of the paper which formed his skin regenerating, healing instantly. Brushogun stared in horror as . . . something bubbled and boiled, just beneath the paper thin epidermis, something seeking release. He could feel it again, more keenly then ever before, that . . . thing that stalked the dark corners of his mind. He could feel it lashing out once more, trying to steal what shreds remained of his stained soul.
He would not let it have him! He would serve his purpose, he would do all that it asked, but he would do it on his terms, his way!
With one last surge of pure will, very nearly caving in his own skull in the process, Brushogun pushed the thing back into the black recesses of his soul once more. He could still feel it though, feel it pacing along the edges still, waiting for its chance. What was worse, just as every time before, he could feel that the stain on his soul had spread. It was such a small amount, a taint hardly worth noticing in a normal man, but within him . . .
He was already so close to surrendering that very last inch of himself, that tiny fragment which seemed to grow in importance with every passing second . . .
Suddenly, Brushogun stood straight once more, shaking his head to clear it of such strange thoughts. What had he even been thinking about? Such poetical nonsense did not befit a being such as himself! He looked around him, to the ruined interior of the temple which housed him. A derisive snort escaped liquid lips; it was long past the time that he moved on. This building had since served its purpose; there was no need to linger.
After all, he had a world to conquer, and more importantly, a nemesis to crush. A grim sneer etched itself across his nearly featureless face. Four failures so far, he had been certain that Mecha-Boi would have been able to deal with that fool, Saotome. Even worse, it appeared that the boy and his barely competent partner had been joined by another, a red headed girl of all things.
Admittedly, though, that last battle had been extremely entertaining, perhaps there was no reason to simply eradicate his enemy yet. He did, after all, have all of eternity to destroy the world. Perhaps a few more attempts before he decided to truly test the depths of his enemy's constitution. Practice made perfect, after all. He was certain there would be others to follow, more victims to pick up the tattered banner in resisting his endless power.
Perhaps he needed a slightly different tact, though. The mechanical wonders that he had conjured forth had failed, despite their immense strength and power. Perhaps something with somewhat more grace was required. The Ink Demon looked to the far corner of the temple, where his latest minion had been patiently waiting out his tantrum. His sneer stretched painfully into a smile, accompanied by the sharp sound of shredding paper.
This Saotome child, he appeared to be quite the heroic type, a martial artist and warrior the likes of which haven't been acknowledged for centuries. If he truly was the noble warrior archetype that he appeared to be, perhaps he might be a chivalrous warrior as well.
At his bidding, his minion stepped out of the shadows, her generous and perfectly formed curves highlighted dangerously in the play of light and darkness that filled the temple. Yes, technology hadn't worked so far, so perhaps something more primal was called for. And wrapping it in such an alluring package, certainly that would throw his nemesis off guard.
Of course, in the unlikely case that she didn't destroy the Saotome boy, there was no need to make it a completely wasted mission. He had yet to actually learn anything about his opponent and as Sun Tzu had written 'If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.' That thought in mind, a simple plan formed.
Without a seconds hesitation, Brushogun thrust his cruel claws into his own eye socket. He dug around hungrily, relishing the white hot agony, before the gruesome sound of rending flesh offered up that which he desired. He tore his talons from the bloody hole in a spray of ink, smiling all the while. He then held his hand before his face and slowly opened it to reveal his prize.
He stared at the ebony orb that sat so sedately in the palm of his hand. Already, he felt a matching one growing in its stead, replacing the stolen eye. He continued to gaze at the small orb, instilling it with a small figment of its own existence. Moments later, drawing upon further material from his own hand, the jet black eye of ink grew a pair of small demonic wings, before slowly standing on tiny insectile legs of its own.
Brushogun smiled at his latest creation. Certainly, he could see through the eyes of his creations, but what more symbolic way of watching and learning of his enemy could there possibly be? Now, given a mockery of life and clear in what he desired, the macabre creature took to the air on its newly created wings and flitted through the air. A second later, it landed upon his other minion's shoulder.
The Demon looked back to the lovely demoness and smiled once more. "Go now, my minion. Find the Saotome boy and destroy him."
With only the quickest of nods, she was gone in a flash of movement that even he could barely follow. Yes, he was certainly looking forward to this next battle.
Suddenly, Brushogun looked up and to the East. Oh yes . . .
There was one last thing he needed to attend to.
"Hey, Lieutenant, I just wanted to thank you again for havin' your boys fix up my bike," his rather short and rather . . . um . . . healthy companion chirped happily. Daizo just nodded, still not completely comfortable looking at the young woman that walked beside him. He shook his head in amazement, outwardly he was being just as stoic and unimpressed as ever, but internally, he was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept of a gender changing curse. Let alone one that was activated by something as inane as water temperature!
Even considering some of the really strange things he'd been subjected to lately, the least of which was being terrorized by robotic children that were just a little too reminiscent of childhood memories for his comfort, he had to admit that Saotome's curse was still pretty high up there. Of course, he didn't want to give the cocky little brat the idea that she'd gotten to him in any way, shape or form.
There was one question that he just had to ask, though . . . okay, maybe two. Slowly, he turned to face her, trying to catch her gaze but failing miserably.
"Saotome . . .," he trailed off meaningfully.
She turned to face him, possibly waiting to hear what he was going to say. "Yeah, Lieutenant?"
He took a deep breath, trying to find the best way to formulate his inquiry. Seconds passed and still nothing came, so he decided to just blurt it out.
"Why the heck are you still wearing that Motorcycle helmet? We're in the police precinct, for crying out loud!"
Honestly, there were times when he seriously contemplated the sanity of his new companion.
Ranko's helmeted head tilted to the side, the sleek red shell of her helmet reflecting the lights brilliantly. Then, the athletic girl turned her head from side to side, in what he assumed was a conspiratorial check to see if anyone was currently watching them. She then leaned forward, placing a dainty hand at the side of where her mouth was under the helmet, very much as if she were telling him some grand secret.
In a whispered voice, she finally answered. "Shhhh! I gotta keep my identity secret, ya know?"
Almost before he knew what he was doing, his right hand flew up on its own accord, preparing to pistol whip the girl into submission. With a great feat of will, he slowly forced his hand back to his side, before letting out an explosive groan.
"Secret Identity? What secret identity? I know what you look like, I know your name, for the love of the gods, I have your cell phone number on my speed dial! Besides, you're practically a martial arts Demi-God, what possible reason would you need to worry about people knowing who you are?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Ranko looked around once more, before confirming that they were the only two currently in this section of the precinct. A moment later, she removed the helmet, revealing a shock of red hair even brighter than her helmet. With a sigh, she lowered the protective gear to her side and looked back at him with a defeated look.
"Yeah, I know all that. I know it's a bit late to try to keep who I am a secret, but I still gotta try. It ain't about keepin me safe, ya know? I got other people to worry about, my friends and family, people that aren't as good as I am. I mean, my buddy, Ryouga, he ain't worried none about usin a disguise, but then, he don't gotta worry 'bout no one finding his family anytime this century," she explained with only a few grammatical abominations.
Daizo nodded in understanding at that. "I think I get it, and since no one but me really knows about your girl form, you still have a chance to keep it a secret."
She nodded, looking a bit depressed. "Yeah, I sure as heck don't wanna get stuck doin all of my crime fightin as a girl, but until I can find some better way of protectin my family, this is the best I could come up with."
Well, that made sense then. It was good to see the gir-kid, see the kid finally starting to take this situation seriously. He knew it was a ways off, but he was pretty sure that Saotome could make a heck of a cop, given the proper motivation. Of course, there was still another question begging to be asked.
"Okay, that explains the helmet. Now, why on earth are you carrying around that grocery bag full of eggs?"
She stared at him through lidded eyes for a moment, before shrugging. "Um . . . would you believe that I really love omelettes?"
Actually . . . he would. Never taking Saotome out for food again was now on the top of his list of personal pledges to his wallet. He shook his head again, out of fear for his own sanity this time. Whatever . . . it wasn't important.
The two continued to walk on in relative silence. A few minutes and several security doors later, they finally arrived at their destination. They turned as one to face the transparent plastic wall that separated them from their quarry for that day. Of course, Daizo was pretty darn sure that whatever the clear wall was made of, it was likely a heck of a lot tougher than any simple plastic. Of course, that didn't make him feel even one iota safer.
He casually leaned over to his companion and whispered out of the side of his mouth, carefully keeping his personal worries out of his voice. "Are you sure this is gonna work, Ranko?"
The pretty little red head's hands rose up before her, her fingers twitching dangerously as she turned to face him, an almost deranged look in her eyes. "For the last time, Gramps, my name is Ranma! No matter what body I'm in!" The twitching finally stopped and she looked back into the cell before them. "And of course I'm sure this'll work, you didn't see the look on his face when he saw me in this body, it was like he was a totally different person."
Daizo nodded carefully, then looked into the cell, the cell that housed their latest super criminal: Mecha-Boi. The mechanical boy was currently sitting in a large steel chair at the center of the room. Massive manacles covered the robots entire forearms and hands. Large metal restraints also covered his feet and legs and each restraint was securely mounted on the chair. Only Mecha-Boi's head was unobscured by any form of restraint, revealing his currently lifeless eyes.
"I sure hope you're right, Saotome, this is probably our best bet to get any info on this crime wave. I don't know why, but something in my bones tells me that there's some kind of connection between our Blue Bomber in here and the rest of those psychos," he stated.
The red head nodded as well, a serious look on her face. "I think that as long as I don't go in as a boy, he won't attack me." She then turned to face him. "Okay, Lieutenant, turn him back on, let's get this over with."
He nodded weakly, unconsciously taking a step back as he pulled out the remote that controlled the chair the boy was imprisoned in. With a hesitant flip of the switch, a controlled electrical surge ran through the chair and into the robot boy. An instant later, Mecha-Boi's eyes flared to life, glowing with azure light.
Daizo took another step back, even as Ranko lowered the helmet and eggs to the floor and took a step forward. With a gentle gesture, she pressed the controls on the side of the cell door, opening the transparent wall for her to enter. Daizo carefully stepped to the side, doing his best to make sure that the girl, as small as she was, was directly between him and the robot. Hopefully, she would hold its full attention and it wouldn't notice him and go into attack mode . . . or whatever it did.
The red headed martial artist then stepped into the cell, purposefully holding her arms out to her sides to show that she meant no harm. She took another step forward, as the robot boy's head slowly began to rise, regarding her carefully.
"You know who I am . . . right, Mecha-Boi?" she asked quietly.
The robot continued to study her, Daizo would almost consider the look on the boy's face to be suspicious, if it weren't just a robot, that is. Slowly, the suspicious gaze faded.
"Ran . . . ko . . .?" The robots distorted voice rang out uncertainly. Daizo smiled weakly at that. It appeared that the kid's idea was working, for some insane reason.
Ranko quickly turned back to face him for a second, flashing him a wide smile and a thumbs up, before turning back to the robot. "That's right, Mecha-Boi. My name is Ranko, I wanna be your friend."
Mecha-Boi's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Ranko hurt Mecha-Boi . . ." a quick, robotic head shake. "I mean: you attacked me, why should I trust you?"
They had been expecting that, though they had hoped that the initial shock to the robots systems would have damaged its most recent memories. So, Saotome knew how to proceed; they had spent over an hour figuring out exactly what she should say in this situation. True, neither of them were what anyone would call diplomats, but he was sure it would work out.
True to the plan, Saotome nodded sympathetically. "I know that, and I'm sorry. You see, what happened was -"
It was pretty much that precise moment . . . where Mecha-Boi exploded.
Daizo was certain that it was going to be one of those moments that he would never be able to scour from his memories for as long as he lived. He had no idea what happened, why it happened, or even how it happened for that matter. One moment, Ranko had been talking to the robot boy, the next . . . Boom!
Only, it hadn't been an explosion of fire and shrapnel, like he had expected. That . . . that likely would have been preferable, in retrospect. Instead, Mecha-Boi, who had just been sitting there, completely still, suddenly began to bulge and stretch obscenely, looking very much like a tortured water balloon. Not even Saotome's reflexes were enough to get her out of the way . . . not that she even tried, her eyes had been just as glued to the macabre spectacle as his had been.
And then Mecha-Boi exploded . . . though exploded didn't really seem to fit the bill. Burst . . . yes, then Mecha-Boi had burst open like an over ripe melon at a Gallagher show. A spray of blue liquid sprayed out from the ruptured husk, painting the roof, the walls, the floor, the martial artist, the officer . . .
Uehara Daizo could only stand there, stunned into complete silence by what he had just seen. He could hardly discern Saotome's form out of the nightmarish blue ocean that had only moments ago housed a dangerous criminal. A bitter tang rippled across his tongue, and he nearly gagged at the thought of robot juice running into his mouth. Oddly . . . oddly it was a strangely familiar taste, but he couldn't place it.
Slowly, Ranko turned to face him, her eyes as wide as saucers, the sapphire blue of those wide, doe eyes standing out sharply from the pale cerulean that covered every other inch of her. Even more slowly, her mouth opened, struggling to form words.
"I . . . think I'm gonna be sick . . ."
Nya-Nya purred happily as she batted away at the pretty shiny things that dangled so temptingly from her claws. Her master had been kind enough to let her run free amongst her prey. It was the first time that she hadn't felt his presence directing her actions and she intended to enjoy it as much as possible. His orders had been simple enough, even for her, but not very specific.
Kill the Saotome-Prey; it was an easy enough thing to do. Of course, she had only a vague idea what he looked like; really, all of these prey-meat-creatures looked more or less alike to her, and none of her siblings had actually done anything important, like get the male's scent. What good were things like heart beats and breathing patterns if the prey wasn't already close enough to taste anyways? Really, her little brother had been so strange.
Besides, it wasn't like her master had told her to do it right away or anything . . . Was it really her fault that so many of these lesser prey possessed such shiny, distracting trinkets? Enjoying the luxurious feel of the bed, she stretched out languidly, absently pushing the remains of her latest prey to the floor with a thump.
The sharp thump drained some of the simple pleasure she was enjoying, rolling around with all of the shiny pretty things surrounding her. She licked her lips, feeling slightly nauseated with the lingering taste that assaulted her tongue. The prey had been old and feeble, not even worth hunting, if it hadn't been for all of the shiny pretty things she'd been wearing.
A disappointed whine escaped her throat. Now she couldn't think about anything else! Annoyed, she dropped the trinkets to the soft sheets of the bed and hopped up to her feet. If she didn't get this taste out her mouth soon . . . With unnatural grace, she glided over to the window and began to scan the streets below for a more delicious looking prey to hunt.
Maybe she'd even bring her kill back to her master! That would show him what a good girl she was!
Ooooohh, a soft purr rattled her throat at the sight below her. A male was currently walking down the street below her; it was practically rippling with muscle and sinew, an alpha male if ever she had seen one before. In fact, even from the distance, he seemed to stand out from the crowd in conditioning, disposition and attitude. The graceful glide of his strides, the wild, untamed mass of jet black hair that nearly shone in the morning sun . . .
Oh, ho! It seemed that fate was on her side this day. With a single leap, she dropped the six stories to the ground, landing as lightly as an autumn leaf; a second leap cleared the distance between them. She extended all of her claws, preparing to land directly on the unsuspecting boy -
Without even turning to regard her, the boy suddenly spun to the side, doffing the large backpack that was resting on his back and tossing it forcefully in her direction. While unexpected, she simply landed on the leathery surface and bounded once more, landing in a low crouch before the wary looking male.
Little things caught her attention, the black shirt, the strip of cloth holding back his wild hair. However, what she didn't smell was fear, frustration perhaps, but no fear at all. She decided, then and there, that she would enjoy this hunt immensely, whether it was her true prey or not. Still, out of a (very) weak sense of duty, she slowly rose to her full height. As she did so, the male dropped back into a defensive stance, eyeing her carefully, but not appearing intimidated at all. Not that he really should have been, considering he towered over her by nearly half a foot.
She licked her lips in anticipation, purring seductively. "Are you Saotome Ranma?" she asked excitedly.
A dark cloud settled over the young man's face for a second, then it was replaced by a strange expression that she couldn't fathom. Letting out a humorless chuckle, he finally answered.
"Heh, not anymore, Lady, not anymore . . ."
Hmm, what an odd answer, it didn't make any sense to her. Either you were someone, or you weren't someone . . . How could you not be someone anymore? You can't just stop being who you are, can you? While she stared in confusion, the young male shrugged and began to turn away, already taking a step in the other direction.
Oh, no, no!
She leapt up and over him, landing lightly before him on all fours and eyeing him hungrily. A wide smile formed on her ruby lips as she stared into his fierce eyes. He stopped once more, stiffening slightly at the look in her eye. Her smile only widened at that, she was definitely going to have fun with this prey. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she leaned forward, finely honed muscles tensing for the pounce.
"Close your eyes . . . this is going to hurt."
Ryu Kumon desperately dodged to the side, blanching at the tug of his harness being torn from his shoulders by his opponent's razor claws. He quickly rolled backwards and flipped back to his feet ten yards away. He vainly tried to remember what it was like to actually be on the offensive in a battle, because it sure as hell hadn't been happening in the last ten minutes or so. Almost before he could register the movement, his magenta haired murderess was already flying his way.
He sidestepped nimbly, swinging out with his forearm to violently block her clawed hand. He smirked weakly at the meaty impact that sent the slight figure of the feline female stumbling to the side. It was short lived, though, as she spun rapidly with the momentum and lashed out with a blinding back kick straight to his chest.
A grunt of pain forced its way out of his lungs, as he just barely crossed his arms in front of him before the shapely limb crashed home. The impact sent him skittering back into a nearby light post, the concrete base fracturing severely when his back slammed into it. Just as quickly, he dove away before his heart could be torn out by a lightning fast follow up. The unfortunate pole suffered the wrath that was intended for him, a hole blowing clear through the center of it. The entire structure began to tip ominously, only the metal rebar at the heart of it keeping it even mildly vertical.
A painful sting grabbed his attention, drawing his gaze down to his forearms. Four long slashes covered each limb, trickling blood slowly in a powerful testament to just how sharp that damn girl's claws were. He chuckled weakly again.
On the bright side, if he was going to die here, he couldn't have found a more attractive girl to be responsible for it. He stared at the alluring female, strangely crouching down in front of the post she had just demolished, rather than continuing her relentless assault. She looked enough like a girl, but quite a few differences to be certain.
He'd never imagined that he'd ever actually meet a Catgirl . . . Let alone one wearing a magenta colored leotard . . . thingy. The ears were cute, the tail was weird, the claws were starting to get annoying! Speaking of which . . .
Smiling wickedly at him from her crouched position, the Catgirl suddenly dropped down on her butt and lifted one of her long, toned legs up in a most interesting manne-
Oh! That just wasn't right!
The Catgirl's tongue suddenly darted from between her colored lips, and hungrily lapped up the few drops of his blood that lingered on her hindclaws. A second later, she began to purr loudly enough for him to hear, nearly sinful in her apparent pleasure. It . . . wasn't exactly heartening. A few more strokes of her tongue and the girl finally lowered her leg and returned to her low crouch, smiling all the wider.
"You taste wonderful. I look forward to devouring you," she purred happily.
He backed up further, not feeling terribly confident about his future. This defensive fighting stuff went against everything he had trained towards his whole life. The very heart and soul of the Yamasen-ken was to attack your opponent with overwhelming force . . . to suddenly find himself in such a deadly battle and not being able to fight even close to his full potential . . .
The magenta feline began to crawl forward on all fours, slowly circling to his side, but her eyes never left him for a second, she never even blinked. Ryu took a deep breath, then, trying to clear his mind of all those irrelevant thoughts. None of that mattered, only the here and now, only this lovely young girl that was preparing to rend him limb from limb with deceptively deadly claws and deceptively inviting fangs.
Screw it!
Not waiting for her, he flew forward on the attack. The ground shattered under his heels as he devoured the distance between them. At the last second, he leapt into a devastating flying kick aimed at her torso. He might not be able to use his advanced skills, but he was still stronger and faster than most anyone else, thanks to a lifetime of harsh training.
Faster than most anyone but this Catgirl, anyway. She practically vanished for a second, diving under his kick and only the fact that that particular maneuver was intimately familiar to him allowed him to dive to the side, avoiding having his exposed back shredded by steel claws. He countered just as fast with a spinning sidekick powerful enough to demolish a concrete wall.
All he demolished was air, though, as she easily leaped over his kick, planting both of her hands just above his knee, her claws digging in painfully. Then she used her hold to swing her entire body around into a massive double kick to his chest, appearing oddly like a gymnast on a pommel horse for a fraction of a second. Again, he barely managed to block the blow as the impossibly powerful legs slammed into him, launching him back ten feet to a skidding stop.
He nearly collapsed then, leaning forward to gingerly grasp his bleeding knee. The force of the blow had knocked him bodily away from her, leaving ten shallow gashes surrounding his knee from her stubborn refusal to simply release his limb. He had a dark feeling that if he wasn't in the shape he was in, he'd have lost his kneecap completely.
"Damn it!" he cursed loudly.
This was bad, this was very bad. Fighting back the pain, he stood straight and got into his fighting stance, carefully redistributing his weight to his good leg. Just in time, too! A pinkish blur of fur, fangs and claw was already hurtling in his direction. Even before he could think about it-
"DON'T MOV-" Shit! He cut himself off, mid-yell. He'd sworn to never use that again! Even worse, it actually worked! The pink haired devil had stopped only a few feet before him, perfectly placed for a Mouko Kaimon Ha! It took every ounce of will power he had to prevent his body from following through on sheer instin-
A kick like a sledgehammer slammed into his completely unguarded chest with enough force to nearly bury him in the pavement. A gasp of pain, joined jovially by a rather liberal dose of blood, burst from his mouth. Hell . . . this girl, that kick could have knocked down a Tyrannosaurus! The blood from his lips joined the new batch of blood that was leaking from the four punctures in his chest as he sat there, half in a daze.
"D-damnit . . .," he coughed out weakly. Now his own instincts were screwing him over. He struggled to move his arm, even as the Catgirl came to crouch only a few inches in front of him, licking her lips in a most unsettling manner. In a rather embarrassing display, he swung at her, only to have her foot slam into his wrist and pin it painfully to the road. Her predatory smile only widened as she leaned in incredibly close, before drawing her strangely dry tongue up his cheek.
Still feeling rebellious, he growled harshly and tried to headbutt her, only to receive a backhand for his trouble, four shallow cuts opening up on his cheek. He growled again. "If it weren't for Saotome, you'd already be dead . . ."
If he was hoping to start up a meaningful dialogue, his hope was dashed rather quickly. Rather than reply, the Catgirl simply opened her small mouth wide, revealing her startlingly long fangs for all the world to see. At the last second, he closed his eyes and looked away, fairly sure what was coming next-
A crack of thunder split the air.
Or, at least that's what he thought it was. A fraction of a second later, an angry yowl nearly deafened him and the pressure on his wrist was suddenly gone, the oppressive heat of his opponent's breath vanished from his throat.
A little uncertain of what was going on, he cracked open an eyelid and took in his surroundings. In front of him, roughly thirty feet away, was the Catgirl, clutching her shoulder tightly. Why she was doing that, he wasn't sure, since her shoulder appeared to be completely fine from where he was. He quickly followed her line of sight; after all, if something had happened, than she would likely be looking at the cause.
There! Roughly thirty yards behind him was an older police officer wearing a very pale blue uniform. Heck, even the pants were pale blue. The officer wore a grim look on his face and held a smoking pistol in a double handed grip before him. Almost instantly, Ryu decided that he liked this man.
Ah, and ten feet behind the officer was a bitterly familiar figure, though wearing a matching pale blue outfit . . . Well, actually the outfits weren't matching, just the color, not that that was in anyway important, it just struck him as odd.
Damn, it irked him so, to be saved by the person that was almost solely responsible for ruining his life. Still, considering the alternative. He chuckled weakly to himself.
"Heh, about damned time, Ranma."
Daizo kept his gun trained on the distant figure of the brightly colored criminal. He still couldn't believe how fast she could move! He'd been aiming for center mass, but she'd practically blurred at the last second, and all he had done was graze her shoulder. If it weren't for the fact that it probably would have seriously injured the person they were just trying to save, he wished he'd used the laser cannon instead now.
He was getting sick and tired of these super criminals. They just weren't equipped to deal with this crap! They needed some . . . some kind of damn super squad . . . or something.
Without breaking eye contact with the magenta garbed female, he turned his head as much a possible and growled over his shoulder. "Okay, move in, Saotome, I've got you covered," he stated quickly.
His aim never wavered in the slightest as he kept his sights on the, judging by the property damage, very dangerous young woman . . .
And continued to keep his sights trained on her . . .
And continued to keep his sights trained on her . . .
And contin-
He turned angrily. "Damnit, Saotome! What the heck are you waiting for!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
The sight that awaited him was not what he expected. The pigtailed boy was not standing at his shoulder; rather the boy was hanging back a good ten feet, veritably shaking like a leaf. What the heck was going on? Now was not the time for his secret weapon to be getting a panic attack. Wait, the kid seemed to be muttering something to himself.
"c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c. . ."
Huh? "Um . . . Ranma, are you okay, kid?" he asked tentatively. If anything, the kid's shaking got worse and the boy lifted a trembling limb to point behind the Lieutenant.
Oh crap! He turned quickly, training his gun back on the -
He turned to see the attractive face of the exotic girl about three inches away from his, her slitted, feline eyes piercing his own. "Holy Crap!" If he hadn't already seen something completely shocking and disturbing that morning, he might have soiled his trousers right there. He desperately tried to fall backwards, just to get some space, when a hand clamped around his neck with the cold finality of a vice. He felt his feet leave the ground, giving him a rather vivid reminder of his first encounter with one of these super bastards.
"S-s-saotome, now would be good," he gasped out with great effort. The continued stuttering of the letter c was his only reply.
I swear, he thought to himself right there, if I get through this, I'm going to pistol whip that kid right upside the head!
A second later, the girl's face was right up in his once more. She looked at him intently, her nose wrinkling up rather cutely; apparently she didn't like his aftershave.
"Did you say Saotome, Saotome Ranma?" she asked, her voice positively predatory.
He struggled to draw in breath, wheezing heavily. As soon as he got a good lungful, he answered the only way he knew how.
"N-no, I sa-said: Screw you, She-Bitch!" With that he unloaded five bullets right into her gut. Like hell Uehara Daizo was gonna go out a spineless snitch! He dropped to the ground a second later, gulping down air like it was an open bar. The Catgirl staggered back, clutching her ruined stomach. Five yen sized holes bled . . . bled a magenta colored liquid that matched her hair and outfit perfectly.
Instantly, he thought of Mecha-Boi, hell, his uniform was still soaked in the cerulean liquid that had filled the robot boy. The feline female staggered back several more steps, before suddenly straightening out and smiling at him dangerously. In a flash, all five holes sealed instantly, flashing yellow, then blue, then red, before matching seamlessly with the rest of her outfit once more.
It was his turn to stagger back, shock so raw and pure that he could scarcely think straight blowing through his mind. T-t-that was the same power that Mecha-Boi had! But - but she wasn't a damn robot!
A second later, his panic was his undoing, as she was flying forward again. This time her claws led the way, he desperately tried to dive out of the way, but knew he'd never make it-
Something collided with him hard enough to empty his lungs of what little air he had remembered to gather just moments earlier. The world blurred dizzyingly for a second, before resolving enough to let him see the Catgirl slash her claws into and through the pavement where he had been half-crawling a second earlier.
"Ranma! You idiot, don't just stand there, do something!" bellowed an irate voice from very close to his side.
Whoever was yelling, it seemed to get through to the panic-stricken martial artist. Ranma finally snapped out of whatever linguistic causality loop he'd been stuck in, turning to face the Catgirl that was now standing only ten feet away from him. Wait a moment, the look on the martial artist's face wasn't just panic anymore, it was full-blown-
"CAAAT!"
. . . terror . . .
Faster than anything Daizo had ever seen that hadn't been fired from the barrel of a gun (and even that was debatable) Saotome turned and starting sprinting down the streets at a rate that most bats exiting the depths of hell would kill for.
The Catgirl struggled with indecision for a fraction of a second, her head swinging from the dust cloud that was once Ranma, to him and his savior, then back to the dust cloud. A fraction of a second after that, she was practically flying down the road herself.
Slowly, Daizo looked to his side, to the young man that had dragged him out of the way of that last attack. He was a relatively handsome young man, asides from the cuts on his cheek leaking blood all over the place. Had a bandanna keepin the hair out of his eyes for some reason, but that hardly seemed important. Something about the boy's eyes though, they screamed discipline and devotion.
Seemed like a good kid to him.
He gave the boy a questioning look, before looking to the heavens. Again, he drew in a lungful of life giving oxygen. "What, oh by the gods, what kind of mental breakdown is my partner suffering from now?" he beseeched the aforementioned gods above.
The young man just shook his head, looking just as confused himself.
"I honestly have no idea, officer."
! The word cycled through his mind so quickly that it lost all meaning. If he weren't so busy doing just that thing, he probably would have started to notice what a strange little word 'run' was anyway . . . Of course, having a neon pink avatar representing everything that he feared and loathed suddenly fly, howling, out of the darkest pits of his nightmares and into a footrace with him . . . it did wonders for his focus.
Another yowl, impossibly sounding even closer this time, pushed his body harder than he'd imagined was possible. He leaned forward, his arms pistons, his legs were jackhammers; there was nothing else in the world except the road ahead of him and the abomination behind him. Conscious thought didn't even come into the equation, only pure instinct.
And one instinct was yelling more loudly than any other.
He absolutely, positively, had to find some coldwater, now!
He had no idea what was going on, where he was going, where he had come from, or what special and terrible hell had vomited out the creature that was pursuing him, but there was one thing that he knew with crystal clarity: There was no way that he wanted to go 'Cat' around that thing that was chasing him while he was still a boy!
There was only one thought in all of the world that terrified him more than the thought of being viciously mauled by hordes of cats . . . and he couldn't even bring himself to think about it, because he was pretty sure if he started throwing up in mid sprint, 'messy' would be a pretty shallow descriptor for the disaster that would soon follow. The tiny and very, very desperate part of his mind that still retained just enough awareness to actually take in his surroundings suddenly found a solution.
There was one-
Damn! He was already past it! A second later, he saw another one-
Damn! He was running too fast, that one had vanished in a blur as well. He focused everything he had to change his trajectory just a few inches.
Damn! Missed that one by a few inches! The gleaming red metal taunted him maddeningly. His panic started to blossom beyond his control, he could practically feel the beast's breath on the back of his neck.
Manomanoman! He'd get the next one for sure! If he didn't, he was dead! . . . A sudden thought, almost a foreign concept by this point, entered his mind.
. . . Oh gods . . . this was going to hurt . . .
The scream of tearing metal, crumbling masonry and rumbling water drowned out his own scream of pain rather nicely. The hydrant collapsed under his charge in a manner reminiscent to most pop cans, the collision sending him . . . now her, slamming face first into the pavement with punishing force, as almost all of his forward momentum instantly converted into straight down momentum.
. . . daaamn . . . how did that Lost Moron do this all the time? Running headlong into infrastructure hurt like hell! Unfortunately, the geyser of water scant inches behind her was spraying her liberally with water and making it very difficult for her to simply fall unconscious. Spraying curses liberally herself, she sat up, wincing at every small flare of pain that blossomed across her abused body.
Now . . . why the hell had she done that again? In retrospect, running headfirst into a fire hydrant seemed like an incredibly stupid thing to do . . . She giggled to herself. Oh yeah! She was being chased by a murderous Catgirl!
Chased by a murderous Catgirl?
Ranma was on her feet, aches and pains be damned! The feline terror had practically been breathing down her neck when she'd plowed into the hydrant . . . So why wasn't she already sans eyeballs and intestines? Hmm, that was odd . . . The red head wearing the blue outfit turned around cautiously, scanning the streets.
She tried to stretch out her senses . . . not that she really wanted to find the snarling beast, but it was pretty damn weird that she would just vanish after chasing him so far. Hmm, there was a fading sense of . . . something, but it was dispersing pretty quickly. Really, whatever it was, it could have been anything, nothing that he could tie to his pursuer in any concrete fashion.
Finally, the petite female shrugged her shoulders and started making her way back down the street to meet her partner. Actually . . . she really hoped he'd bring the squad car around, she really didn't wanna walk to whole way back.
Still, where the hell had that Catgirl gone?
She didn't even notice the last traces of magenta tainted water slipping into the sewers.
About an hour later, the three of them were back at the precinct, washed changed and bandaged after their various ordeals. Ranma sighed happily, dropping the towel that he'd just dried his hair with around his shoulders. It was definitely good to be a guy again, it was just too bad he didn't have a spare change of clothes with him, but the spare uniform he'd borrowed from that Kaneda guy seemed to fit pretty well.
He was perched on the corner of the Lieutenant's desk, said Lieutenant seated comfortably in his chair on the other side of said desk. Uehara had finally gotten rid of his stained uniform, now wearing a simple pair of black trousers and a white shirt. The long brown trench coat and matching fedora were new, but seemed to suit the older man. The officer also let out a weary sigh.
Sitting in a chair at one of the many empty desks, was Ryu. The guy had also changed out of his ruined clothes, replaced by another set from his convenient backpack. The only differences were the bandages on the guy's cheek and forearms . . . and those were only the ones he could actually see. Whoever that girl had been, she'd really worked the guy over . . . which kind of made him wonder how well he would have done against her if it had come to that. He'd like to think he'd have done better, anyway.
The Lieutenant finally broke the tense silence that reigned over them. "So, Kumon, that's the situation as we see it so far." The older man looked to be studying the other martial artist seriously, waiting for a response.
He would have to wait, though, as another officer suddenly barged in on their conversation. The new officer, Suzahara from what he'd heard, slapped a folder onto Uehara's desk, a dark look on his face. "Looks like you've got your first fatality here, Uehara. "
"What?"
Ranma's shout of shock was quickly followed by Ryu's
"What happened?"
The homicide officer looked at the both of them, a serious expression on his face. He then turned to focus on Ryu for some reason. "Some rich lady was murdered. She was living in an apartment pretty much right on top of where your fight broke out. Time of death was probably only a few minutes before the assailant went after you. No idea what the motive was, yet, but I'm not even gonna say what we found in there," muttered Suzahara.
The Lieutenant nodded grimly, picking up the folder and absently leafing through its contents. "All the more reason for us to find out what's going on here." If the older man was at all fazed by what he saw in the folder, he didn't show it.
Ranma wasn't sure what had shocked him more, the fact that someone had actually died, or the cold indifference which the Lieutenant displayed over it. Sure, he hadn't actually seen the body, and logically knew that there was nothing he could have done to stop it . . . but still, no one had ever died from one of his escapades before and that was exactly how he had seen this entire thing until this point. Sure, it had been a bit more serious lately, but it was just another set of random goons coming out trying to beat him in a fight, nothing he wasn't used to.
Suddenly, this game didn't seem fun anymore . . .
A moment later, Lieutenant Uehara dropped the folder back down on his desk. "I don't know what it is yet, but there's a connection between our last two villains. Heck, I bet all of our recent villains are connected. We just gotta figure out how they're connected, how many more of them there might be, and if possible, who are they all working for."
Ranma and the homicide officer nodded in agreement. The pig tailed martial artist did his best to shake off the morbid train of thought and get back into a more analytical mindset. He wasn't gonna help anyone if he freaked out now. Slowly, he started to think about everything that had happened up to that point.
It had all been so random initially, but things had been falling into place more and more lately. All the criminals had that stupid color scheme thing going, something that they hadn't even thought about until now. Then, the first one, Saico-Tek, had been targeting the police, as had the second and third. The last two hadn't been targeting police, though. Mecha-Boi and that Catgirl had actually been after him, the Catgirl even asking for him by name.
So, someone was targeting law enforcement agents and anyone that associated with them. Then, of course, the real cincher, the fact that these last two shared the same ability to instantly regenerate their wounds. It made it pretty obvious that, if anything, they all had some common source to their abilities.
Unfortunately, there were a hell of a lot more unanswered questions than there were answered ones. Why had Mecha-Boi burst into a puddle of liquid? Why had the Catgirl attacked people that obviously weren't police or him? Why were they all taking turns for that matter? Ranma shook his head, starting to feel a headache coming on. So, instead, he turned back to the conversation between Uehara and Ryu.
"So, will you help us out with this, Kumon? You're the only other person we've seen, besides Saotome here, that can actually go one on one with these things. Things are getting more serious by the day; people are dying now, kid. Your assistance could be vital in stopping these bastards before they can kill again," stated the Lieutenant seriously.
Ryu matched the officer's gaze just as intently. The homeless warrior looked like he was considering the request very seriously, possibly even like he would accept it . . . Until the boy's gaze slid over to catch his own. Ranma nearly groaned at the resentful glare that formed in the boy's eyes as they locked gazes. A second later, Ryu swung back to Lieutenant Uehara.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Uehara, but as you saw, I'm unable to fight at my full capabilities any more. The way I am now, I'd likely just get in your way against such dangerous opponents." Ryu then rose to his feet and began to shoulder his pack once more. Almost as an afterthought, the headband wearing youth nodded in Ranma's direction. "Besides, there's no way in hell that I'd ever work with that bastard. You two are on your own."
There was no way that Ranma was gonna let that one slide. Where the hell was all of this hostility coming from? He'd thought they'd parted on relatively friendly terms . . . as far as such a thing was for him.
"What's the problem, Ryu, ya get beaten up by a girl and now you're too scared to fight anymore?"
That did it. With a snarl, the former master of the Yamasen-ken spun to face him. "Go to Hell, Saotome! If it weren't for that damned promise you forced me to make, I would have dealt with that girl easily!"
Ranma waved his hand dismissively. "You're jokin, right? That was nearly a year ago. You tellin me you ain't gotten over that yet?" Sheesh, how lame could one guy get?
Apparently it wasn't the right thing to say, as Ryu stormed forward, twisting a fist tightly into his shirt. Ranma met the other guy's stare evenly. "You don't understand, you jerk! I spent all my life mastering the Yamasen-ken. You didn't just make me seal away a technique, you made me abandon the very heart of my fighting style, you forced me to betray the dying wish of my father!" With a savage push, Ryu shoved him back and spun away again. "Why the hell am I even talking to you?"
The other boy then acknowledged the Lieutenant again. "Like I said, I'm sorry, mister. I'd like to help, but I'd just get in your way as I am. Maybe, someday, I'll find or develop something to replace the Yamasen-ken, but until then, I am a crippled man."
Lieutenant Uehara turned his way, shooting him a questioning look. Ranma could only sigh in response. Ryu did have a point, even without the Yamasen-ken, he was likely good enough to wipe the floor with most martial artists, but asking him to help against such powerful and dangerous opponents without it just wasn't fair. It'd almost be like someone telling him to give up the Saotome School of Indiscriminate Grappling.
Still, Ryu was by far the best fighter he knew in Nerima at the moment (besides himself, of course), it would be a waste to let him leave like this . . .
"Ryu . . . wait a sec."
He wasn't sure why the other boy actually stopped, perhaps it was the tone in his voice, or maybe the guy was just naturally curious, but whatever the reason, stop he did. Without turning, Ryu fired a brief interrogative over his shoulder.
"Ryu, we really need your help with this. You gotta stay and help us," he not-quite pleaded.
An amused snort escaped his former enemy's lips. "I don't gotta do anything. I don't like you, Saotome, never have, so why should I he-"
"Shut the hell up!" he yelled, angrily cutting Ryu off. He swung his arm out, punctuating his frustrated point. "I don't give a crap if you hate me! This isn't about me and it ain't about you! Ryu, people are dyin here, man. Is your pride or my honor more important than that, are you willin to let people get killed just because you don't like me?" he spat out.
A look of shame descended upon the Kumon-heir's face at that declaration. Ryu looked away, unable to keep his gaze.
"Look, Saotome Ranma don't lose, not to no one and not to no thing. I've never hidden the fact that I'll do anything it takes to win, and that ain't gonna change now that people's lives are actually on the line. I don't know who's behind all this stuff, but I do know that me and the Lieutenant ain't gonna be able to handle it alone. If getting your help might stop even one more person from dyin, then I'll do whatever it takes to get that help. And if lettin you use the Yamasen-ken is what it takes to get you to help us, then that's what I'll do!"
Ryu spun around at that, his eyes becoming veritable dinner plates as he stared in shock. Almost instantly, Kumon was inches away from him, fists clenched into his shirt desperately.
"You-you would do that? You would unseal the Yamasen-ken if I agreed to help you?" he asked, just as desperately.
Ranma let out a long sigh, he wasn't completely sure about this. Ryu was right though, he wouldn't be much help if he was still struggling to rebuild his own style from the ground up. These enemies weren't the type to let you walk away and learn from your mistakes. After all, not even he won every fight . . .
Another sigh, "Not . . . exactly." He ignored Ryu's raised eyebrow. "Look, the Yamasen-ken is still a dangerous art, too dangerous for normal use. I'll allow you to use it if you agree to several conditions," he stated seriously.
Ryu released him, slowly moving back to lean against another desk. The look in the boy's eyes shifted from joyous to calculating as he prepared to hear the demands. Ranma obliged him quickly.
"First, the Yamasen-ken is still a sealed art, so you have to promise not to teach it to anyone else," he began. Ryu nodded easily. Of course, Ranma knew that Ryu was smart enough to see the loophole there. He couldn't force the boy to not teach any techniques that he innovated that were based on the style after all. Ryu wasn't a lazy thief like his old man, so if he did reinvent the style to suit himself, he imagined it could actually form a higher and nobler art in the long run.
"Second, you must promise to only use it in matters of life and death. That means no running around and challenging anyone you feel like. Only when your life is actually in danger, like it was today, got it?"
The fatigue wearing boy didn't seem quite as happy about this limitation. It took several more seconds of contemplation before he finally, and grudgingly, nodded. If he agreed to join them, it wasn't like he wasn't going to have any shortage of chances to use it. The most imporatant thing, was that Ryu would be allowed to practice the art once more.
"Fine, Saotome, I'll accept your terms, but only because of the severity of the circumstances. I only have one condition of my own," Ryu replied, a wicked smile beginning to spread on his lips.
His own condition? Ranma grumbled at that, Ryu wasn't exactly in a position to be making demands after how generous he'd been. "What's that?"
Ryu's smile only widened. "When we run into that Catgirl again . . . she's mine."
Ranma nearly laughed out loud at that demand. That was one ultimatum that the Saotome heir would only be too glad to agree with. Happy with the deal, or happy enough anyway, he nodded and offered his hand to the master of the Noisy Thief. Ryu returned his weary smile and took the offered hand in and shook it once.
Behind them, the Lieutenant let out a sarcastic groan. "Oh, happy days are here again, the bitter enemies are friends again. Sheesh, can we cut all the Nancy boy 'warrior rival' crap and start acting like we're living in the twentieth century again?" muttered the older man.
The cop only grinned in the face of the combined power of their withering gazes. Some people just didn't appreciate a warrior's bond anymore. "And while we're on the subject," continued the aging officer.
"What the hell is a Yamasen-ken?"
Brushogun spread out his arms and relished the distant walls and high ceilings of his newest lair. The abandoned warehouse was perfect for his needs . . . Of course, he used the term abandoned loosely, considering it had only become abandoned about an hour and a half earlier. He didn't even feel any remorse for the warehouse workers that he had snuffed out, either. But then, it wasn't like they were important characters. They had been killed out of panel, anyway, so their deaths were pretty much meaningless to the story.
What he was disappointed with, was the rather ignoble fate that had befallen his latest minion. Reduced to so much ink by a fire hydrant? He was trying to write a tragedy here, not a comedy. Of course, she hadn't been completely useless; she had revealed some very interesting information before she had been annihilated.
So the black haired Saotome boy and the red haired girl were one and the same. It hardly made sense, but that didn't really matter anymore, if anyone understood the transformative powers of magic, it was him. More importantly, was how boring it was! The boy turned into a girl when he got wet? Where was the crippling weakness, where was the sensational transformation sequence? Brushogun wasn't even certain that it was something that even merited a scheme; really, what was he going to do, embarrass the boy at school? It was just pathetic!
The fear of cats though, that was just absurd enough to be funny. Who in their right minds was afraid of cats? Not just afraid, but full blown phobia terrified. It was amusing enough to think about, but then, he did hate the idea of a repeat performance. He'd have to think of another way to come at his nemesis with the feline motif.
Oh well, he might have lost the battle, but he was one step closer to winning the war. The Ink Demon turned to face the north, seeing something far beyond the simple confines of his warehouse lair. Somewhere, deep within the heart of the Nerima district . . .
From a bird's-eye view, Brushogun watched Saotome Ranma and the unusual boy from earlier enter the back door or a rather nice dojo.
"And that, Akane, is why Ryu is currently training in the dojo," Ranma finally finished, wheezing heavily for breath.
The blue haired girl stared at the pigtailed boy, still trying to take in the entire retelling of the boy's day. It all just seemed so surreal to her. Now, more so than ever, she was certain of her decision to stay out of this business.
"You mean, someone was actually murdered by that Catgirl?" she asked, still not believing it. It was just too terrifying to contemplate. Logically, she knew that people like the Headmaster were terrible people, more than capable of killing to fulfill their aims, but she had never actually heard about anyone actually getting killed before like this.
Was this the new kind of enemy that her fiancé was getting involved with?
Ranma just nodded, a somber look on his face. "Yeah, it hardly seems real to me, either. That's why I was so adamant about getting Ryu to help us. The guy's a jerk, but he's actually good enough to fight these things on the same level I do . . . now that he can use the Yamasen-ken again."
She shook her head, still bewildered about that as well. It wasn't like Ranma to go back on his word like that. For him to do something that so flagrantly went against his sense of honor, it was a very powerful indication of just how seriously he was taking the latest twist of this situation. Internally, she was relieved to know that he wasn't just looking at this like another game, like he had when they had gone to rescue her sisters. She knew that he knew just how dangerous these people were now.
"Well, if these people are as dangerous as you say, then why don't you unseal the Umisen-ken as well? You should be using every possible advantage you can get, and the Umisen-ken is incredibly powerful," she asked in concern.
He nodded slowly, but then his nods dissolved into a negative shake of his head. "Naw, I'd thought of that, but I swore to seal the Umisen-ken up, and I intend to honor that," he replied.
"What? But why not? You've already unsealed one art, why not the other?"
Ranma let out a resigned sigh. "But I didn't unseal it, not really anyway. Ya see, the only reason that I'm letting Ryu use it, is because he needs to. To me, the Umisen-ken is just another set of techniques, but to him, the Yamasen-ken is the heart of his entire style. Asking him to help me when he can't even fight at his full potential, it'd be pretty much asking him to commit suicide," he tried to explain to her.
She wasn't quite getting it yet though. "But Umisen-ken is the more powerful art, sure, it might not be central to your style, but it could only help you in a fight," she felt her growing concern mirror in her voice.
The pigtailed boy smiled then, a sagely smile that just screamed 'I know something you don't, Grasshopper'. He lifted a hand up and raised a finger, as if illustrating that he had a point to make. "Ahh, Akane, that's not what my pops said at all. He said that the Umisen-ken is the higher art, which it is. The silent thief relies on much more refined and subtle techniques than the noisy thief, but in all honesty, the Yamasen-ken is the more powerful art of the two."
She replied in the only way she could. "Huh? But your Silent Thief defeated his Noisy Thief, how could his style be more powerful?" This wasn't making any sense to her at all, and less sense by the second.
Ranma nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I did, but think about it, Akane. Of course the Umisen-ken beat the Yamasen-ken; pretty much all of the Umisen-ken maneuvers are direct counters to the Yamasen-ken techniques. I don't know why pops did something as dumb as create one style, then create a second one which seemed to be solely designed to counter that style, but that's what he did.
"Aside from the Umisen-ken opening move and the White Snake Venom Reliable Fist, each move is pretty much tailor made to counter the Yamasen-ken maneuvers. I mean: the Armored Door Splitting Fang Failure counters the Welcome Gate Iron Fang Fingers. The Self-Protection Shooting Star Cloth is a counter to the Jewel Held in One's Pocket Kill, which is followed up by the Carp-Fish Bodyflip and the High Mountain Reverse Sea Ability. And, most telling, the Demon-Guardian Searching the Sea Wrap is specifically designed to counter the First-Rate Demon God Assault Bomb, heck, I can't even imagine another situation where that move would work yet."
Akane was forced to nod, she remembered the fight keenly. She remembered how he'd used those very counters, even commented on how they had all linked together so well. It was obvious that Ranma had a much better understanding of the techniques than she did.
While she was contemplating that, he continued his lecture, apparently enjoying educating her. "I mean, when you think about it, the Yamasen-ken's attacks can work on anyone, they're all direct attacks. The Demon God Assault Bomb is enough proof of just how powerful and destructive of a style it is. So, yeah, while the Umisen-ken is a higher art, the Yamasen-ken is definitely the more powerful of the two."
She wasn't ready to give up on the discussion yet. If there was any way that using those sealed techniques could help keep her fiancé safe, than she wanted him to use them. "Then why not just use the opening move and the White Snake Venom Reliable Fist? If you had the ability to turn invisible, that'd make you much less likely to be hurt, wouldn't it? And then you could spy on the bad guys, sneak past security cameras and all that kind of stuff. It would be very helpful in tracking down these criminals, wouldn't it?"
This time, Ranma shook his head in disagreement. "The opening of the Umisen-ken doesn't actually work like that, dummy. It doesn't make me invisible, it just erases my presence," he explained carefully.
She scratched her head, just interested enough in his answer to let the dummy comment slide for now. "What's the difference? Either way, your enemy can't see you, right?"
Another head shake. "Wrong. It just means they can't follow my movements. As my pops said, the secret of the Umisen-ken is to make yourself invisible to your opponent, then attack from where your opponent can't see you coming. You accomplish that by, first, hiding your chi, and then by slipping into their blind spot when a distraction allows. Because of the speed training of the White Snake Venom Reliable Fist and the suppression of my chi, I'm fast enough to literally vanish into a person's blind spots and stay there. Why do you think all of the follow up attacks come from behind? If I were able to actually become invisible, I could just walk up to my opponent and punch them in the face.
"And the security camera thing is just way out, like I said, I don't actually go invisible, just the next best thing. So, yeah, I agree with you, using the Umisen-ken would probably help me out, but unlike Ryu, I don't need to use it. Sure, it's great, but definitely not powerful enough to make me unseal it at this point. Not to mention the fact that I'm not even sure it would work on these guys, I mean, Mecha-Boi was a robot, so I don't think hiding my chi would have helped one way or the other . . ." Ranma trailed off slowly, she could practically see the gears in his head turning. It was pretty obvious that he'd piqued his own curiosity as to the various applications of his own technique.
She knew he was downplaying the usefulness of the Silent Thief style, probably in an attempt to convince himself that he didn't need it, but he had made some valid points. And really, as much as she wanted to state she was as skilled as anyone else in Nerima, she didn't even know a fraction of the theory behind any of his techniques to actually argue him on any of his points. Even if she did, her stubborn fiancé would likely prove her wrong in short order, anyway. After all, he had learned the technique after seeing it just once, she'd watched an entire battle and she still didn't have the slightest clue how it was done.
"Fine, Ranma, fine. I won't argue with you anymore. I was just concerned for your welfare was all, no need to turn it into a lecture," she grumbled lightly. "You just better make sure that Ryu doesn't destroy the dojo while he's practicing his moves. I think one dojo destroyed by your father's legacy is enough, don't you?"
Ranma's good natured laugh brought a little smile to her face as well. "Ya got that right. Though it'd be a good excuse as any to give the Old Man another beating."
Any further discussion was derailed, as a sudden knocking at the front door startled the both of them. Akane looked up to the clock thoughtfully. "Hmm, it's in the evening, who could be visiting us at this hour?" she asked, honestly confused. Most of the people that tended to come by at odd hours were half a world away at the moment.
Ranma just shrugged in response, as lost as she was. Well, she didn't want to be rude. A second later, she hopped up to her feet and went to answer the door. Another knock came as she made her way over. "Just a moment! I'm coming!" she called out to their mysterious visitors. As stated, a moment later she arrived at the front door. She took a moment to straighten out her outfit and hair, wanting to look her best for any company, then opened the door, a Kasumi-esque smile on her face.
"Oh, my! It's you!"