Finding home

Chapter 3

Disclaimer. Welcome to the disclaimer, that's right the disclaimer. This wonderful bit of American apple pie institution that will cleanse any sense of originality from a fanfic that might otherwise make you enjoy yourself. So, protect your family. This fanfic displays explicit depictions of other peoples characters.

(If any of you recognize where I got this from, cool. Old school Offspring rocks.)

Author's new notes: This is a fairly basic chapter here. It's more about setting up the next chapter than anything else. To all my reviewers, thank you. In a past review, someone mentioned translating my work, and how they hoped it hadn't offended me. It doesn't. As long as no one else tries to make money off of this, than by all means, share it with your friends or translate it.

Juuban High School.

That's where the Three Lights were. Juuban High School. I sip the soda in my hand again, and readjust my slouch from where I lay partially hidden in shadows across the road from the high school. It's about four in the afternoon. School had been out for almost an hour now, but since a lot of students here were apparently in clubs and stuff there was still a large crowd of people in the school. Too many suspicious eyes for a ragged guy with a pack over his shoulder to just walk in. Since I didn't really feel like cloaking myself in the iron cloth technique and dodging people, I was just going to wait until the school was mostly empty and taking a look.

It hadn't taken me that long to find out where they were. When news of this got out to the fan club I had been staking, the screams nearly destroyed my eardrums. Apparently none of the girls that went to that club had school there, and they decided that the most mature way in which to express their disappointment at their misfortune was glass shattering tantrums. I had left quickly after that.

Which is the reason I'm now where I am. I had discovered the location of the Three Lights too late in the day to rush over to Juuban High to find them, especially considering that I didn't even know where Juuban High was yesterday, so I had instead treated myself to a refreshing evening at a bath house. I've never had much luck at bathhouses before, mainly due to my curse, so I tend to avoid them whenever possible. But if I was going to be spending a lot of time around other people now, it would probably be best to not look like a bum off the street. To that end I had scrubbed hard to remove layer after layer of sweat and dirt while my clothes tumbled over themselves in a coin operated washing machine. Then, while the clothes were drying, I relaxed in a hot bath, letting the steam get me ready for whatever comes next.

I had spent the night sleeping comfortably and quietly on the roof of the bathhouse, undetected by all who walked around and under me.

After waking at noon I had stretched and given myself a quick run through my forms, before beginning my stakeout. I used what money I had left from 'convincing' muggers to leave me alone to supply myself some snacks, and sat back to wait.

Now, so many hours later, it looked like I was going to have time to go in and look around. I better do this quietly. I don't want to have questions asked at me….

"No! Absolutely not!" a voice bellowed from across the street, from the school I've been watching for the last four hours. My attention turns from the school in general, to two people exiting the school. The shouter, an amazingly well built man in some kind of red and white athletic outfit with puffy plastic pants and shirts, was currently striding away from another man, who is dressed meticulously in a suit with his hair carefully combed over the side of his head.

"Please," the well dressed guy virtually begged the athletic guy. "I know that you don't like them, but they are students, and famous. We can't just…"

He was cut off by the big guy. "No. I will not put up with those snotty three whelps. They might be famous but they can't be allowed to get away with this."

"Now I know how you feel…" the well dressed man tried again, to be cut off again by the big guy. By now the two had crossed most of the courtyard between the entrance of the school and the gate. A couple of students and teachers were stopping from whatever it is they had been doing and watching the confrontation. I took another sip of my soda and watched as well. Dinner with a show.

"No. You listen to me," the big man turned back to the well dressed guy. "You wanted the best martial artist you could get to be your gym teacher, and you got me." Now my attention is pricked. This guy was a martial artist? He continued. "Now if you want me to stay, Mr. Principal, then you can listen here. I won't let those three superstars, or whatever they are, get away with special treatment. They'll participate in gym just like everyone else, or I'm out of here."

The other guy, the principal I guess, drew himself up. "Now listen here, coach," he said sternly. "I'm halfway tempted to let you go where you stand. I am the principle, and you will respect me."

The coach just laughed rudely. "Yea, right. Like you'd just let me go. It's not like someone better then me is just going to walk in off the street."

The principal glared. "If someone did, I would hire them on the spot. At least they might show some respect."

You know, sometimes I wonder about all the coincidences my life seems to have. Its almost suspicious how things like this just turn up. Oh well. Suspicious or not, who am I to say no?

"Ahem," I clear my throat from across the street, leaving my partial concealment behind a tree. The two antagonists jerk, apparently surprised by the interruption, and turn to glare at me as I take another sip of my soda and cross the distance between me and the gate. "Sorry to interrupt, but I kinda heard you two arguing. And, well, I decided to take you up on the offer." The two lose their angry looks, and look at me confused.

"What offer?" the principal asked, sounding puzzled.

"The one about if someone walked in off the street you'd hire them," I answer back. I take another sip of my cola as the coach starts to fume.

"He said if someone better then me showed up, punk," he snarled. "Get lost."

I ignore him completely, and continue talking to the principal. "I don't need much pay, and I'm fairly good with kids. I've worked as an instructor when I was younger, so I have some experience."

The principal looks at me for a second more, and then straightens himself up a bit. "I see. Do you have any references? I'll need to look into your background a bit before I can say yes or no…" The couch had been steadily fuming as me and the principle ignored him, and by now his face is an unhealthy shade of purple. Kind of reminds me a bit of Ryoga actually. Back before he and Kasumi announced their secret affair and settled down together. Kasumi had a real calming effect on the old pig, and the two are quite happy now. Ryoga's lost his edge so much that he can't even throw a Shi Shi Houkuden anymore. Oh well, no more playing with old pig boy.

Besides, whenever I try to start a fight with him again, for old times sake, Kasumi gives me one of those looks that could wilt flowers.

Anyway, as me and the principal continue our chat for a bit, the couch finally blows a gasket. "Listen here, kid," he bellows, and I raise an eye. Kid? "I'll have you know I'm a fifth degree in Kempo! I can bench press three hundred and fifty pounds! You think you're better then me?! Huh?" The crowd of students and teachers begins to back off nervously, and the principle prudently leaves his position by the side of the coach. I look the coach up and down slowly as the principal begins to try to calm the coach down, from a safe distance.

"Now, now," he begins nervously. "Just take a deep breath and…"

This time I interrupt. "Yup. I'm better then you," I tell the enraged coach.

Apparently this is the straw that breaks the camel's back, or whatever, because the coach roars and attacks. It seemed like a kind of extreme reaction, but maybe the guy's been having a bad day. Who knows?

I sidestep the coach's charge, and begin listing my references in between dodges and sips on my soda. "Well, there was the time I spent in the Kakua Dojo in Osaka, I think there number was…" I listed a couple of dojo's that I had been to. Usually places I would challenge, and then trade the sign for food. Sometimes they would ask me to stay and give some lessons, so I'd give 'em a hand. Nothing wrong with that.

The fight between the coach and myself is almost a joke. The guy definitely had a lot of potential. He was fast, and he had a lot of variety in his skills, but he was so angry that he didn't really stop to think about his attacks very much. I would have had a much harder time if he had been calm and careful. As it was, I kept my dodges on the ground so that I wouldn't spill my soda while I was flipping.

While I was ducking under a hideously overextended right cross, I tried to take another sip of my soda, and discovered it was empty. Oh well, nothing lasts forever. After I had unbent myself from my evasion, I crumpled the can, and tossed it over the purple berserker into a garbage can behind him.

Now, with both my hands free, I return fire. The coach had been breathing so hard from the exertion of his anger and his attack that his face was almost swelling with the blood in his face. If he kept this up he was going to give himself a heart attack. I use one hand to catch his incoming fist and redirect it wide on the outside before I reached in with my other hand and hit him with the blade of my hand at the base of his throat, under his ear. The sudden pinch on the nerves and blood vessels that ran to his brain caused a momentary slowing of the oxygen to his head. The end result was a sudden wooziness and loss of coordination, which I exploited in a beautiful uppercut.

The coach almost seems to hang in the air for an eternal moment, before he crashes to the ground. There. I dust my hand off and turn to the principle.

"When do I start?" I ask. This is great. Now, not only due I get to stake the place out from the inside, I get a little paycheck too.

Wait a second. I stop when I realize that I'm being surrounded by a small horde awestruck students and teachers. A sudden breeze echoes through the now utterly silent schoolyard. A sheet of newspaper, crumbled up into urban tumbleweed, rolls slowly through the courtyard between me and the semi-circle of gaping observers.

"What?" I ask. "Did I spill some soda on myself?"

---

Beep. Beep. Beep. Be-SLAM.

Alright. Note to self: get new alarm clock. I pull my feet off of the desk in front of me while I yawn and rub the sleep out of my eyes. Around me is the office of the athletics department for Juuban high. On the front of my desk is a little plaque bearing the words "Ranma Saotome: Head Coach".

I'm moving up in the world.

After yesterday's little display on the finer points of martial artistry, the principle had apparently decided to take my offer seriously. While I had sweated under the strange looks his secretaries were giving me (Maybe they had forgotten their lunches? They looked really hungry for some reason) the principle had double checked some of the references I had given him, and apparently they passed inspection.

A quick tour and a friendly introduction to some of the other teachers later, I was shown my office and set to work. After a quick review of the lesson planner of the previous coach I had come to the conclusion that the guy had known what he was doing. His work schedule for the students had been simple and effective. Light enough not to strain them, but intense enough to provide those who tried a chance to improve themselves.

After deciding to keep the previous plan, I had gone over the school one more time with a little more intensity. After that, I had made use of the now deserted gym to keep myself in shape. Finally, at around midnight, I had gotten some sleep.

Which brings me to my current position. Rubbing my eyes as I blearily check the wall clock and sitting up from my slouch in the comfortable swivel-chair. According to the clock on the wall, I had set my now shattered alarm clock just right, because its five minutes to my first class. Yawning and cracking my neck, I grab my attendance sheet and head off to the gym where my first class will be assembling. I groan slightly as my eyes run down the list of names. Apparently my first class was an all girls class.

Great.

I make it to the gym right as the first bell rings. A few girls have already made it, but the majority are apparently still in the locker room changing, so I begin flipping through the folder with the names and the class plans. Looks like some like aerobics, followed by some jogging and baseball. Sounds simple enough.

I look up again after a few minutes more to check the progress of my class, and am satisfied to see the majority of them here and whispering among them selves.

"Alright everybody," I begin, calling their attention to me. "Due to the last head coach quitting, it looks like I'm going to be taking over your classes for a little bit. My name is Ranma Saotome, and I'm mostly a martial artist. Since the last coach had already started you guys off pretty good, I'm just going to stick by to his plan. Any questions?"

A hand shoots up. When I turn to face the questioner I am confronted by a brightly smiling blond with a big bow in her hair. "Excuse me, Mr. Saotome," she sings out, and I almost flinch. "If we need help, can we stay after for private lessons?"

I'm very proud of the fact that I keep my eye from twitching. "We'll see about that later," I tell her. "Ms... ?" I trail off.

"Aino. Minako Aino."

"Thank you, Minako," I tell her. "Any more questions?" Another hand raises, and I turn to it.

Great. Another blonde. I had no idea there were this many of them in Japan. "I was wondering if you could tell us why the last coach quit, Mr. Saotome." The speaker almost growls out her question. She was taller and had shorter hair than the last. In fact...

My eyes narrow slightly. She looks just like the one from the concert hall.

But accidentally running into one of those sailor soldiers here? What are the chances of that happening? I must be imagining things.

"He had an argument with the principle," I tell the suspicious blond. "And you are?"

"Haruka Ten'ou." Definitely not friendly.

"Alright then. Is that all?" No more questions answer me. "Alright then. Why don't you all line up so I can take attendance, and then we can get to work."

---

"Excuse me, sir?" a voice interrupted me from behind. I turned from where I had been watching the girls playing baseball. Behind me was the blonde from earlier. Haruka. When she sees that I'm looking at her, she continues. "I was wondering if you might be able to answer some questions." She really didn't look like she was going to take no for an answer. She had the kind of look that screams 'don't make me mad'.

Those kind of looks always bring out the worst in me.

I give her what is quite possibly the most annoying smirk I've ever produced. "Sure. It's called baseball. The object of the game is to hit the ball with the stick and then run around the bases." Haruka's eye twitches so I continue. "While you're running the other team..."

"I know how to play baseball," she interrupts.

"Well then," I pat her on the back and smirk again at her. "Good for you. Get back in there and make your team proud." I turn my attention back to the game. Behind me I can just barely make out the noise of what could quite possibly be steam escaping from her ears. Reminds me of the good old days with Ryoga. Strange that so many people in this school remind me of the old pig.

"I hear you think you're a martial artists," Haruka snaps behind me. Now I stiffen as she continues. "You don't look like much of one."

"I'm a better martial artist that you ever could believe," I tell her in a very calm voice. "I'm the best there is."

"How about a spar then?" she snaps. When I turn around to look at her, my face is expressionless.

"Is that what you want?" I ask quietly.

"When I win, you can answer my questions," she snaps.

Now I'll be the first to admit then when I was young I was somewhat naive. I like to think that I've matured a bit over the years. I also like to think that I've become a bit more observant. For instance, when I was a kid, it took a fist to my face to convince me that you were mad at me. Now I can tell just from looking that this Haruka girl is very angry with me. I can't possibly think of why that is. No, that's not true. I can think of one good reason...

"Is this about me jumping on your head?" I ask her very quietly. She stiffens suddenly and her eyes flair. Looks like I was right. She is the blond/pianist/sailor whatever from the concert. "Alright," I tell her without waiting for a response. I turn and give the class a quick look as I shout instructions at them. "Class, I've got to have a quick talk with Haruka here. Keep up the good work, and I'll be back in a minute." I turn back to the now very quiet blond in front of me. "Shall we?" I ask, and without waiting for a response I start to walk towards the gymnasium again.

The gym is empty. All the other classes are using the track or the pool, enjoying the outdoors while it's still warm enough to do so. As I enter I remove my traveling boots. I had long ago gotten rid of the worn and beaten slippers of my youth. They might be wonderful for fighting in, but when you're crossing the sharp and hot volcanic rocks of an active volcano (Don't ask, you don't want to know) or doing something like that it helps to have proper support for your arches. Barefoot I pad into the center of the gym, assuming a position in the very center.

"Whenever your ready, girl," I tell her. She attacks.

Her style is... Well, I don't really know how to precisely describe her style. It is hard like the earth, but light like the sky. She moves swiftly and surely. From the display she shows at the auditorium, she must have a lot of battle experience.

I fight at just above her skill level, to be respectful. She is a warrior, and it would be shameful to move all out, or too weak, against her. I was a little surprised at her strength and speed. They were lower then I expected, but I guess she must have some kind of power up routine. Throughout the match, I steadfastly refuse to hit her. She is a girl, after all.

The fight had gone on for over twenty minutes before she finally collapsed on the ground, exhausted from her effort.

"Now," I ask her, as I kneel down by where she lay panting and sweating. "Answer my questions. Who are you? What are you? What's going on around here?"

She gave no answer and just glares at me. I really wish that just once people wouldn't automatically assume that I'm evil incarnate. I can't help but feel that I might have earned the right of the doubt.

"Oh, well. I'll find out eventually. Ranma Saotome never loses. You're dismissed. Go shower and get changed. If you need a note to get to your next class, just ask me."

I almost instinctively dodge the daggers she glares at me as I leave the room, my hands behind my head, whistling slightly.

----

Man oh man. What a day. I take a second away from my concentration on my forms, and wipe my arm across my forehead.

The rest of the day had gone by pretty quick. It seems like that Aino girl wasn't the only one who had wanted 'extra help'. I wonder if this is the principle's idea of a joke, giving me all of the all girl classes to manage? I haven't had that many funny looks since I was in Furinkan.

And I don't care how I look. I wish that Kino girl would stop saying I look just like her old upperclassman. I'm a teacher now, not some long lost old friend. What a day.

The worst part about having all those girl classes was that I didn't get to keep as close an eye on those Three Lights as I would have liked. I am a lot closer now so I can act if I need to, and in my off hours I can usually manage to innocently stay near them.

The air around me whistles as I punch and kick at enemies that aren't really there for another minute or two before I finally give up and collapse on the ground to breath hard.

They had another performance tomorrow. The Three Lights. Should I go? I really don't want to have to sit through another set of annoying music, but the way the last one turned out...

I think I better go.

I close my eyes for a second, and control my breathing. After a second of concentration, I slow my heart down from its slightly rapid pace as well. Well now. Back to...

Flutter. Flutter. Flutter.

Something lands on my nose.

I slowly, slowly open my eyes, to come face to face with a hideous demon.

"AAUHHH!" I screech, leaping to my feet with what my mother would call a distinctly unmanly scream.

The jump scares away the demon on my nose, and it leaps fluttering into the air. I take a deep breath and try to keep my heart from exploding and take a second look at it.

A moth.

Alright, its not a demon, but lets see how you act after waking up with a moth on your nose.

The scary bug fluttered away from me, and, though I tried to track it with my eyes, the little creature soon disappeared into the darkness of the hollow and empty gym.

I turn back to my practice.

Authors note:

I've received complaints about how fast I killed off Iron Mouse. In the manga, which is what I'm basing this fiction off of, that was when she died. If it seems like the other animates die off to quickly, its probably because you're still thinking of the anime, where they stretch it out so they can make more money off of it.