The Tendo family's eyes were firmly attached to Ranma's back as he deliberately left the room, searching his forced calm for hints of faults and fractures. His galvanizing performance had captivated his audience so that his presence ensnared their attention. They were unashamedly ascertaining his every move, observing him to the point of rudeness, as if he was a spectacle.

In his place, Akane would've been infuriated, insecure or intimidated. Though she knew he was aware of their scrutiny, Ranma disregarded all of it and walked away unblemished. It was only when he left her line of sight that she was struck by his sense of self-worth, his pride. Ranma Saotome had judged himself fairly and was satisfied by his findings. If he were to meet himself, the two identical Saotomes would become the best of friends. The only Tendo who could do the same was Kasumi.

Soun Tendo took the teakettle and an empty cup off of his friend's body and made himself some lukewarm tea. He took a long sip and looked at the large man in the tattered clothing lying in the remains of his kitchen table. He chucked lightly and spoke without concealing his amusement. "You know, if I hadn't cushioned that blow, you would probably be unconscious right now," he remarked.

Genma opened his eyes and began trying to sit himself up. Seeing his old training partner's trouble, Soun set his teacup down and helped his cursed friend sit next to him, after which he grabbed his cup again and finished drinking quickly. He put the empty cup aside and reflected on recent events with a smile on his face.

"He is even greater than I had dared to imagine," he revealed. "His understanding of the art is phenomenal, you truly have taught him well old friend," Mr. Tendo praised.

Genma Saotome shook his head in a rare display of modesty. "It wasn't that hard. The boy mostly taught himself," he explained with pride and a little pain in his voice.

Nabiki was the first daughter to recover enough of her wits to ask a question. "Daddy, what's going on? What was that?" she asked urgently.

Akane could understand her bewilderment. Her sister had always liked to keep a measure of control, especially of her immediate surroundings. To acquire that control, she used knowledge. When the Saotomes had been introduced as martial artists, she had assumed that she knew what that meant. After all, she was the daughter of a martial arts master and Daddy-dearest had made sure his precious daughters all knew at least some rudimentary knowledge of the art so that they could protect themselves from untrained brutes.

No part of her knowledge of the art could have prepared her for the Saotome clan's ability. One may have been necessary to understand the other, but that did not mean the other could be understood by using the one alone. It was like trying to understand quantum mechanics using knowledge of arithmetic.

"That, Nabiki, was a world class martial artist fighting another world class martial artist in a battle for dominance," their father explained. He turned to face each of them in turn. "Treasure the memory girls, because you will never see anything quite like it again."

Now that the subject was back onto the fight, there was something Akane wanted to know and couldn't stop herself from asking about. "Why did you lie? He beat Mr. Saotome fair and square, so why did you tell him that he lost?"

It tormented her because she couldn't understand her father's decision. Ranma was her superior in the art and after his display she couldn't help but accept that fact. He had defeated his father with greater skill and power than she had ever seen. His opponent lay defeated at his feet, how could have possibly lost the challenge? It made no sense to her.

She must have spoken with a touch more vehemence than she had wanted, because her father immediately tore up and stared at her in terror.

"Akane-chan…"

The daughter grimaced slightly. Soun was of no use when he was like this. Fortunately, she wouldn't have to waste any time comforting him before she could get an answer.

Mr. Saotome nodded. "You're right. The boy did beat me, but that doesn't mean he won the challenge. If he had been challenging me for mastership of the Saotome school of Anything Goes, I would have failed him for that," Genma said seriously.

That didn't make it any clearer. "But what did he do wrong?" she asked in frustration.

"The most important aspect of martial arts is control. An artist must always use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish a goal. Ranma could have simply thrown me out of the room to win the challenge but instead he decided to break the dinner table. That's a large mark against him," the Saotome elder preached strictly.

The three daughters stared at him unimpressed. The story rang true but didn't match their father's explanation. Nabiki's gaze was particularly heavy as she shook her head. "Liar, you just didn't want him to go to China," she said.

Genma nervously turned away from the accusing stares before nodding sheepishly. "Well, that too. In any case, Ranma's still here because he agreed with Soun's assessment. If he had felt otherwise you probably wouldn't even have seen him leave."

The argument died down, but she wasn't at all satisfied.

Ranma sighed contently as he entered the heated water of the bath. The sensation brought by a warm soak was quickly becoming his most treasured feeling, if only for its implications. It was the only place where his manhood couldn't be put into question, the one place where he could completely relax.

You're in luck! He's half girl!

Ranma was forced out of his drowsy state of mind by the bitter memory. He opened his eyes and glared at the tiled ceiling in petulant irritation. He was being petty, but he couldn't help it. The eldest daughter's little remark hit a little too close to home. Her comment had stung him fiercely and he couldn't let go of his resentment.

It angered him because he couldn't rightfully deny her allegations. No matter how much he wished it otherwise, Kasumi and Nabiki had spoken the truth and there was nothing he could do about it.

The curse was something he had no control over. It made him feel helpless and that was what truly angered him. It was a slight to his identity, a symbol of his weakness and he hated it. He imagined that he would feel a similar frustration if he ever lost a limb. To have control over something, lose it and be unable to get it back was just… vexing.

Tch… nothing I can do about it. Might as well let it go.

He had a feeling that it wouldn't be so easy… especially if they kept up their antagonistic attitude.

I mean really, I try to be nice and this is what I get? I don't hit the weak, but if you think you can just treat me badly then you've all got another thing coming. I can be just as mean-spirited as you can. We'll see how you like it, girls.

Ranma scoffed in disdain and turned his attention to examining the bruises he received from his father's attacks. There weren't too many of them and none were severe, but the sight of them made his scowling features tighten regardless. At ten years old, when he reached the intermediate level of ki control his healing rate increased exponentially. It would've made his life easier if his instruction hadn't accelerated accordingly.

The bruises would be gone within a few hours, but the memory of his defeat would likely remain forever. He hadn't been good enough. For a few seconds, he felt like a young boy again… back when he was starving for compliments and praises… but before he was strong enough to force them out of his old man. In the days where nothing he did was good enough, where his weakness created a gulf the size of an ocean between him and his father, where he had no time for friends or attachments because they would only hold him back. During their journey, he'd only allowed himself to bond with Ucchan and that one kid with the attitude problem and the bad sense of direction. He missed out on a lot of stuff, but it had been worth it in the end.

It was his most precious memory… the day he finally defeated his father and gained his respect. He had been fourteen, driven and incredibly serious. He had wanted it so much that he had shed tears of joy when it was over. His old man hadn't said a word. That silence meant more to him than anything he could remember.

He'd long since learned that nothing short of perfection was acceptable. Flaws in his technique could hurt his opponent just as easily as they could hurt him.

For the past two years, he had taken the edge off his training because he had believed that his current skills were acceptable. He had been wrong. Mr. Tendo had found flaws in his art. If his performance had been perfect, Soun would have remained as silent as his father had been on that day.

Your skill in the art is commendable, but you still lack maturity.

His body wasn't a problem. It was sculpted and incredibly attuned to his needs. That only left one thing, control over his ki.

So that's the next step… total control over my spirit…

"I'll show you… next time, you'll be struck speechless," Ranma promised himself. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly sure about the methods needed to accomplish his goal. All he really knew was that the training would end when he was capable of controlling his spirit. That meant being able to feel nothing as well as being able to feel anything. It meant being capable of matching an emotional stone or a spiritual kaleidoscope.

Once the technique was perfected, his will would theoretically be in complete control of his existence.

Well… at least during fights. I don't think anyone could hold something like that all the time…

The most important thing to remember when learning a new technique is to start at the beginning. In this case, before being able to simulate something… he should be able to simulate nothing. So he would start with that.

The young man exited the bath, dressed quickly and purposefully walked past the family room towards the guest room. As he passed by the family room's open door, he saw that the Tendos and his father were keeping each other company. They watched him attentively with questioning eyes but kept their silence. He reached his destination readily and wasted no time in falling asleep.

Nabiki frowned slightly as the boy named Ranma strode by the open doors. She found herself chilled by his frosty countenance, a feeling that was utterly foreign to her. His face, posture and movements showed very little to her practiced eyes. If there was one thing she learned from her father's martial arts training, it was the ability to read others. It was her greatest skill. The cursed boy left her sight quickly, but the chill remained a few seconds longer. It was odd that she had difficulty reading him when he was an open book to her earlier. All she could get now was a whole lot of nothing and a faint sense of determination. It was slightly disconcerting.

Akane shivered as the martial artist moved past the open doors in a controlled glide. At that speed, her eyes had no difficulty tracking his movements and analyzing them. His every movement was perfectly calculated to offer the maximum amount of mobility in any direction. She might have been able to do the same with some effort, but what was incredible was the fact that he wasn't doing it consciously. The sight of such mastery and ease simultaneously thrilled and inspired her. She admired his skill and dedication because as an artist, he was everything she wanted to be.

Kasumi looked on worriedly as the young man smoothly stepped in and out of her line of sight, his expression unreadable. His actions since her father's questionable ruling were reminiscent of something she'd read in one of Tofu's books specializing on mental health. Ranma seemed to be actively repressing his emotions and keeping them bottled in, which wasn't ever healthy but was particularly dangerous in his precarious situation. The poor boy was under a lot of stress and she was ashamed to admit that her earlier actions didn't help. Now that she'd had more time to cope with the situation, the fact that she had insulted him became crystal clear. She would've apologized to him, but he didn't seem to be receptive to any attempts at bridging the gap between them so she would have to wait.

Genma Saotome rubbed his chin as his son walked towards their shared room. "Huh… I haven't seen the boy look so focused in a while. I'll have to do something about that," he said pensively.

Soun Tendo looked at his friend in confusion. "What do you mean, old friend?"

"The boy loathes losing and tends to become single-minded when he has a clear goal in mind… That attitude of his doesn't exactly foster good relationships, Tendo," Genma pointed out.

Soun nodded thoughtfully. "I believe I might have an answer for that…"

Ranma raised an eyebrow and eyed his father skeptically. "School?" he asked.

Genma shrugged unhelpfully. "Well, we are going to be staying a while," he noted.

The young Saotome observed his senior patiently. Under that worn bandana of his was the mind of a born trickster. It made him an extremely talented martial artist and a very hard person to deal with, if you didn't know him. Fortunately, all of his schemes were strictly short-term. Genma was incapable of keeping a scheme going for very long… he didn't have the patience for that kind of thing. Normally, if one stared at him for a sufficient amount of time, his defenses would crumble and his anxiousness would be revealed.

However, the more he stared, the more he became convinced that his old man had no ulterior motives in this decision. Of course, now that he was living here, it could mean that Mr. Tendo was the one who made the decision, but he wasn't about to seek the man out and confront him about it, not his house. Besides, he didn't have any kind of proof. In any case, unlike physical training, additional human interaction would be of great help to his training so he had no reason to actually refuse.

Ranma grunted in approval and returned to his meditation. His self-titled black tank top clung comfortably to his torso, his similarly colored loose pants hung off his folded legs, the invisible breeze entered through the open door and refreshed the large room with its scent and temperature… his father still graced his offspring with his prominent presence…

"Great! Get ready, you start today. Nabiki and Akane will accompany you."

And then he was gone. The young martial artist had to smother a spark of irritation at the narrow deadline but he managed to suppress it and get ready without failing his exercise. In no time at all, he was walking on top of a chain-link fence, two feet behind the two sisters. He had kept his black pants but exchanged the tank top for a high collared sleeveless white shirt. It had a front opening that was kept closed by four black strings. Even though his father had managed to get him registered in the short amount of time since their arrival, he didn't have a uniform or any actual school supplies yet. It didn't bother him too much… he was used to it.

He followed the siblings without keeping track of their conversation. Not only did it not concern him, but they seemed to be a little awkward in his presence. Akane in particular was periodically throwing loaded glances his way. He didn't know what she was thinking about and he didn't think she would appreciate him asking.

Besides, curiosity was a feeling and he was currently trying to suppress those.

Ranma spent the majority of the journey to Furinkan High School memorizing the town's layout in case of the unexpected, from the road names, to the landmarks and the rooftops. The last was always critically important when escaping pursuers. That activity alone was engaging enough to occupy his attention until the school entered his field of vision. He jumped down from the stone fence and followed his guides from ground floor as they approached the open gates.

His first thought about Furinkan High was that it was a nice looking school. Four stories plus roof, plenty of vegetation and well maintained at that. It was probably the classiest school he ever attended…

Huh?

Just inside the school gates stood the most peculiar collection of sportsmen he had ever seen. There were boxers, soccer players, football players, tennis players and various martial artists armed with blunt weapons. A mere glance was enough for him to discern a pair of nunchucks, a shinai, a bo staff and a tennis racket in the hands of appropriately dressed boys. What confused him was the fact that they didn't seem to be doing anything and he couldn't even attempt to imagine what they should've been doing. He couldn't think of any plausible reason why they would all gather there.

What could they possibly be doing? Are they waiting for something?

"Good luck, Akane!" Nabiki sang cheerfully. Her younger sister nodded tersely before dashing towards the small crowd of young men. As soon as they noticed her approach, they began chanting their individual mantras and matched her running charge with their own.

"Akane, date me!" and variations of that statement seemed to be the average slogan for the masculine ground forces.

"Hate boys, hate boys, hate BOYS, HATE BOYS!" was the lone female martial artist's motto. It was delivered with great fervor and accompanied by practiced blows. It was three seconds into the fight and he already knew who was going to win.

The attacking men had little training and no defense to speak of. Every engagement in the skirmish ended with a single blow knockout as Akane targeted vital spots and took advantage of open guards without mercy. In addition to their lack of skill, Akane Tendo's opponents were not trained to fight in groups. They were more likely to impede each other's progress than attack their actual target.

Ranma scoffed and momentarily loosened his control over his spirit. The recent series of events were simply too incongruous… he had to say something or he would go insane.

"They're wasting their time," he remarked.

Nabiki turned to him with a raised eyebrow, clearly waiting for him to continue.

"I don't know why they're doing this, but they don't have the skill to tangle with your sister. They know this and attack in a pack but it's not enough. They aren't coordinating their attacks. They're just waiting for a lucky shot that'll never happen. Akane studied your family art for years and is physically above them in every way. Their only chance at victory is to fight dirty and they're not willing to do that," he explained.

"How can you tell?" Nabiki asked curiously.

"What?"

"That they don't want to fight dirty," she clarified.

Ranma watched silently as Akane planted her foot in a boy's face with vigor. "They hesitate to attack her from the back; they don't grab her hair, they don't crowd her or hold her down… stuff like that." He scowled in annoyance. "This is just annoying. Her skills will degrade if these guys are her only opponents. It'd be cool if it was even remotely challenging, but this doesn't even count as a warm-up. No rhyme or reason in any of this. Why does she put up with it?" he asked.

Nabiki shrugged helplessly. "What choice does she have? They're doing this all on their own."

"How long has this been going on?" he asked with a gesture towards the ongoing conflict.

"Not too long… every morning for the last two weeks," she answered.

Ranma stared at the bruised fallen and shook his head. Every morning… "The reason they keep coming back is that she's taking it easy on them. They aren't learning their lesson because she's being nice,"

Nabiki turned to the concluding fight just in time to catch an unfortunate soccer player get roughly elbowed in the abdomen and kicked into the fringes of the collapsed crowd. Sounds of retching were heard soon after. She turned back to him with a look that clearly asked: This is nice? "And what would you suggest, oh martial arts master?" she asked drolly.

He smirked in her general direction without deigning to look at her. "Easy. I was taught that one should only use the minimum amount of energy required to accomplish a task. Efficiency is vital to everybody, since we all have a limited amount of time. If she wants them to stop but doesn't want to hurt them needlessly, then she should hurt them a little more every time they attack her. They'll stop sooner or later. The smart ones will stop of their own free will and the idiots will stop when they realize that they can't do much of anything with broken limbs," Ranma shook his head as Akane fought off the last few stragglers. "Either way, this can't go on much longer or someone's going to get hurt… badly. And it's not going to be Akane." he concluded.

Nabiki had lost the skepticism that had plagued her and now looked at her sister somberly. "What's do you mean?"

Ranma grimaced slightly as he pondered that question because Nabiki's worry appealed to his empathy. He was offering her advice and she was taking his words seriously. Her sincerity forced him to take the matter just as earnestly as she did. That was what helped him realize that the rumble normally wouldn't have troubled him. I probably wouldn't even have thought twice about it if it hadn't been for yesterday. Maturity, huh? Shit… I need this training more than I thought.

He sighed in sudden weariness and continued vocalizing his thought process. "Someone's bound to get hurt. Your sister is getting frustrated and the longer that goes on, the more she'll lose control over her movements. Eventually, she'll start to release that frustration onto the most obvious target and these guys aren't tough enough to handle it. Against the unaware, her skills are no joke. She'll hurt them permanently if she's not careful."

The middle Tendo sister groaned in exasperation as she rubbed the space between her eyes. "Alright… I'll have a talk with Kuno."

Ranma shrugged and walked towards the school gates. "You do that… anyway, Akane's done. Let's go."

As he advanced closer to the slightly panting martial artist, he heard Nabiki attempt to stop him. "No wait, Kuno still hasn't…" A thoughtful pause. "You know what? Never mind."

The young man glanced over his shoulder and immediately noticed the young woman's mischievous smile. He could've gone back and asked her what she was up to, but then he noticed that a young man in kendo apparel wielding a bokken had just thrown a rose to Akane. His choice made, he leaped onto the brick wall and pushed off of it to land lightly next to the anxious schoolgirl. She didn't appear to notice his arrival.

"Akane."

The girl shrieked and swung her book bag at his head. He easily stepped out of range and noted her excessive reaction.

High strung isn't she?

Akane quickly recognized the target of her attack and blushed in embarrassment. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Ranma raised an eyebrow in silent amusement. He got the feeling apologizing wasn't something she did often. "S'alright… No one got hurt," he reckoned.

"You there!" It was the rose throwing kendo practitioner. He looked quite irritated. "You are being quite familiar with Akane!" It seemed to be a warning. Ranma wasn't impressed.

He turned to face Akane and then Nabiki. Neither seemed surprised. Instead, he could see longstanding fatigue begin to settle into the younger sister's features.

This guy must be special.

He had no idea.

"Ex-boyfriend?" he asked Akane. She swiveled around and stared at him incredulously, apparently struck speechless. He nodded at her reaction. "Yeah, I thought not."

"Who are you, boor? Ah! But it is the custom to give one's own name first! Fine, then! Mine I shall give!" It was less of a conversation and more of a soliloquy. It wasn't even like he was being talked at… It was more like the guy was having a conversation with himself. Not only that…

This guy is incredibly pompous.

"My name is upperclassman Kuno. Junior group E. Captain of the kendo club. Undefeated new star of the fencing world. But my peers call me… the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High!" Kuno proclaimed loudly and with a straight face.

So this is Kuno? Even the old man was never this overblown. This guy has to be the biggest clown I've ever seen. Replace the stick with a pie and he'd fit right into a circus…

Silence. It took a few moments for him to realize that Kuno was waiting for his introduction.

Might as well humor him.

"The name's Ranma Saotome. I'm the heir of the Saotome school of Anything Goes martial arts. I'm currently staying over at the Tendo practice hall…"

His requested introduction was rudely interrupted as Kuno loudly and physically expressed his protest. "What? Under the same roof as Akane!" his upperclassman screamed as he closed the distance and swung the wooden sword at chest level.

The bokken easily slid through the air under Ranma's back as the pigtailed youth back flipped out of the way. He landed in time to hear Akane objecting Kuno's attack.

"Kuno! Ranma is the son of one of my father's friends, he is a guest!" she explained. When the defending martial artist saw that she would continue, he held up a hand to stall her response. Akane saw the gesture and decided to let him handle it.

He took his schoolbag off of his back and silently threw it to Nabiki, where it was least likely to receive damage. "Hey, Kuno…"

"You shall call me upperclassman!" the Blue Thunder thundered in outrage. He was ignored.

"You're the one who's behind the morning fights, right?" Ranma asked.

The older student took on an air of personal satisfaction as he began another speech. "Indeed, 'tis I! The beauteous Akane…"

Ranma quickly interrupted before he had to suffer through another long monologue. "Alright, I'll take you down quickly then," he forewarned.

The warning was unheeded as the kendo captain laughed derisively. "Fool! You dare assume to…"

The pigtailed youth stopped listening and concentrated on the fight, which would prove to be incredibly short. Kuno failed to react to his opponent's cut-in speed and found himself summarily disarmed and defeated.

Ranma periodically tapped the captured bokken onto his shoulder as he shook his head in slight disappointment. He hadn't been and still wasn't in any mood for the type of game Kuno liked to play, so he had decided to unquestionably force his superiority into the other boy's mind. He'd found a mile wide opening and he had taken it. The fight had been over when the temporary paralysis shiatsu strike landed, the following punches were simply to prove his point. It wasn't even close to his usual style, which was to see everything the opponent had to offer before defeating them and involved a whole lot of dodging, but in a way, he wasn't sorry. Kuno simply rubbed him the wrong way.

The victor had been about to rejoin the Tendo sisters when the loser managed to move his crumpled form and mutter: "I… fight… on…"

"Still conscious?" Ranma asked before he used the bokken's rounded hilt to sharply jab down onto another pressure point. Kuno lost consciousness immediately and hopefully lost any delusions regarding his chances of victory with it. If he was lucky, they wouldn't have to go through this again.

It was only then that it occurred to him that someone as annoying as Kuno would've been the perfect tool to help him with his new training. If he was capable of suppressing his annoyance when dealing with Kuno then he'd be able of suppressing anything.

Oh well… too late for that. I guess I should start that up again.

Ranma took a few seconds to center himself and suppress his emotions before he went to retrieve his book bag. Nabiki silently handed him his bag and he nodded in thanks. She seemed to be a little stunned at the easy win. In contrast, her sister clearly expected the outcome.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked. She didn't seem to be too interested in his answer.

"Yeah, he'll be fine." He looked at the turbulent gray skies and winced. "Looks like it's going to rain soon, so I'm gonna go inside," he said.

As he stepped around the fallen brawlers, he couldn't help but notice the crowds of gaping students hanging around the school windows. For a moment, he wondered what they were doing there, but then decided that he didn't care.

You know what? Having no Internet sucks incredibly.