A field of faces stared him down, invoking feelings the like of which he could not stand. Ranma pounced on his urge to fidget and wrestled it down with excessive savagery and force. He's gone through this scenario several times over the years, and it never changed. There was no reason to feel preoccupied.
His new classroom was located on the third floor and was filled to the brim with people he didn't know. Experience taught him that he would probably never get to know any of them in any meaningful way. The members of Class 1-F were, with the exception of Akane, run-of-the-mill students led by a typical teacher. They would never be able to understand his interests and he'd long since learned that speaking of the Art to the uninitiated never worked out like he wanted it to.
His teacher invited him to tell his new classmates something about himself and he'd long since learned that making a good first impression was generally the way to go. So he plastered a grin he couldn't really fit comfortably on his face and spoke with enthusiasm he must've summoned from the ether, because it certainly hadn't come from him.
It wasn't usually so hard, but he wasn't feeling all that comfortable in his own skin lately.
He gave a concise explanation he wouldn't remember three minutes later and retreated to his assigned seat. He paid attention to the teacher's lesson for a few minutes before losing all interest and resorting to practicing his dexterity and precision using a pencil, a notepad and ki.
The exercise he chose wasn't particularly draining, but it required a constant level of concentration. He needed to make sure that the friction didn't rupture the paper or cause it to combust, complete his objective as quickly as possible and convincingly pretend that he was still paying attention. It wasn't easy, but he became somewhat of an expert over the years.
It only took a few seconds for an accurate picture of his classroom and its occupants to appear on his notebook, though it was still somewhat lacking in detail. After a few more seconds of speed drawing, he hurriedly removed the pencil point from his notebook before bringing it to his mouth and blowing on it.
He wasn't sure about the Tendo School of Anything goes but the School he would inherit from his father was based on speed and precision, so it wasn't such a large stretch for him to apply that to other physical activities. However, that did not mean he was gifted with artistic sense of any kind.
He still remembered the art teacher that had thought to teach his student about his chosen craft, only to discover that Ranma was totally useless with colors. Recognizing simple geometric shapes and replicating them on a two-dimensional surface was one thing. Discerning hues was something entirely different. In addition, brushstrokes were completely beyond him. Those damn things just didn't want to cooperate.
But, then again, he had apparently been making some very nice progress by the time he left. His father had finally earned enough money from his odd jobs to continue their journey and they were to leave in the early morning. His teacher had looked so disappointed that Ranma almost hadn't wanted to leave. In the end, he had promised to keep his skills sharp by practicing whenever he could find the time. To fulfill that promise, he fine-tuned his dexterity by drawing his surroundings whenever he had nothing better to do. It just so happened that classroom environments were extremely susceptible to produce sketches.
And no matter what anyone said, he wasn't doodling.
A fibril of smoke danced before his eyes for a moment before he realized what that entailed and hastily pressed his palm to the source in order to smother it. A few seconds of investigating his surroundings and rationalizing that nothing else was going to burst into flames or throw him out of class, he began to add more detail to the picture.
It was therefore quite surprising that he paid no mind to the incredulous looks being thrown his way.
Ranma desperately worked to keep his temper in check as he was forced to spend his favorite period of the day dealing with a hostile idiot. He wouldn't have minded the interruption if it had occurred during history or math class, as those courses were notoriously capable of inducing spontaneous bursts of somnolence regardless of the actual number of hours he had slept the previous night. He could have used the excitement then, it might have been fun.
However, any length of time dedicated to nourishment and free time was sacred. Especially if it took place outside of the general vicinity of Genma Saotome. Kuno had committed a cardinal sin and the young martial artist was having a hard time containing his impulse to inflict grievous bodily harm upon the sacrilegious fool.
Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that those impulses were exactly what had cost him the challenge the previous evening (maybe) so he wasn't exactly falling all over himself to indulge them, no matter how annoyed he was. Besides, situations like this were exactly what his new training were supposed to help contain, so he should at least make an effort towards remaining calm and efficient. He needed to get past this without resorting to excessive violence.
Of course, Kuno had to make that exceedingly difficult by destroying his lunch.
It was really quite frustrating, but he wasn't about to jeopardize his training by giving anything other than his best. No matter what happened.
Of course, that didn't mean that his definition of 'excessive' when coupled with the concepts of 'Kuno' and 'violence' hadn't lost vast amounts of definition. The well defined sculpture of a large, bald martial artist wearing a ragged gi in a specialized stance morphed before his very eyes, metaphorically anyway. His mental representation of excess seemingly aged at an accelerated rate, succumbing to the ravages of time and the elements in mere moments.
A veritable shower of dust fell from the monument, robbing it of facial features, clothes and a portion of its extremities. All that remained was a heavily muscled humanoid figure with a smooth, elliptic face. Oddly enough, considering the obvious damage the statue endured, most of the body parts needed to perform horrendous acts of violence were in perfect working order.
The Saotome heir ducked lazily under a wild slash as he pondered over the workings of his imagination. Not only did this keep his mind and feet off Kuno, it was also more entertaining than focusing on dodging the thunderous idiot's straightforward attacks.
Under normal circumstances, fighting of any kind during the school day was a welcome relief, but now that he couldn't allow himself to use aggression as an outlet for accumulated frustrations, the exercise was more bothersome than anything. If Kuno had been more skilled then that would've been a different matter, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Unfortunately, Ranma had no idea on how to get the other boy to cease hostilities for more than a few hours… at least, no idea that didn't involve crippling levels of damage. A clear demonstration of his superiority had already proven ineffective. Nabiki's classmate didn't seem to possess the mental acuity to recognize the futility of his own actions. Seriously, what kind of idiot challenges a thoroughly superior opponent moments after being soundly defeated?
He could understand obstinacy, mostly because his own character could be sometimes confused with it. But he believed that he was resolute, as opposed to being bullheaded. Resolution only had a purpose when it was used properly. As always, excess was the enemy.
The ideal martial artist would have recognized Kuno's endeavor, even approved it… if it had served any purpose beyond salvaging pride. In truth, Kuno had nothing to gain and everything to lose by defeating him here. In the best case scenario, Kuno would win the fight and gain absolutely nothing. Even if his earlier loss had been a fluke, which was unlikely, establishing that as a fact would only highlight his fallibility. It was always better to lose against a superior opponent than to lose against one's own flaws. Or at least, that was what Ranma believed.
In all likeliness, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High would lose once more and carry with him the marks of that defeat. Bruised flesh, strained bones and shattered pride. At worst, Tatewaki Kuno would lose his life. Ranma was well aware that accidents did happen, especially in live combat. Of course, the chances of that actually happening were slim to none, considering Ranma's control over his abilities, but they existed regardless.
So was it too much to ask for a little respect? Did Kuno deem the difference between their skills to be so inconsequential that he could achieve victory with a renewed assault? In his place, Ranma would have spent a few days training or at least worked out a few strategies. Judging by the lack of set-up and follow-up strikes, the kendoist fully expected each and every one of his strikes to connect and instantly dismissed every failure as a stroke of luck.
His opponent was a fool with delusions of grandeur, a megalomaniac… and a psychiatrist he was not. So he stalled and began to contemplate waiting for the Blue thunder to tire himself out. If that failed, he would probably have to wait for his ire to fall to safe levels. If he pressed the offensive now, he'd probably end up destroying a few of the cafeteria's tables and ultimately failing his task.
"Accept your punishment, knave!" his upperclassman yelled in mid-swing. The partially hidden rasp in the aristocrat's voice was immediately detected.
Ranma took his eyes off his opponent for the sole purpose of rolling them. Being forced to decipher the meaning from Kuno's unnecessarily eloquent speech pattern was also grating on his nerves. "Out of breath, are you?" he said indifferently. Even taunting this particular opponent bored him.
"Silence! Your despicable ways will not save you forever," Tatewaki threatened ineffectually.
"What are you talking about?" he asked wearily.
Kuno swung his bokken around dramatically, obviously using this opportunity to gather his energy. "This foul illusion magic! Waste not thine energy, sorcerer. I shall uncover thy true form regardless," he advised mockingly.
He was starting to get a headache. "Oh, this is rich," he mumbled. "So now the reason you keep missing is because of magic? You think that the reason you can't touch me is because I wasn't there in the first place?"
The swordsman pointed his sculpted piece of wood towards his target. "The Blue Thunder cannot be fooled so easily, but that did not stop you from making the attempt, scoundrel!"
Ranma shook his head in dissatisfaction. Enough was enough. Obviously, Kuno wouldn't leave him alone until he fully appreciated the situation. Luckily, the defending martial artist had an inkling on how to deal with the current state of affairs, thanks to his training. From the outside looking in, Genma Saotome always looked like the worst teacher in existence, but that wasn't exactly true. The senior Saotome was a great teacher, insomuch that his only student always learned his lesson in the end.
In some cases, his methods could probably be improved upon, but that didn't make them any less effective. The Saotome elder had never asked for something he knew his son couldn't provide. However, just because Ranma was able to offer something did not mean he should, far from it in fact. For instance, just because he was capable of sacrificing a piece of his sanity for the sake of the Art doesn't mean that it was in any way advisable.
The art of convincing an opponent of one's utter superiority in body and spirit was a technique that Genma had used liberally to keep his son in line throughout their journey. It was deceptively simple. All one needed to do was to clearly point out the target's weaknesses while remaining completely untouchable.
Might as well give it a try…
"What did you call yourself? The undefeated star of the kendo world?" Furinkan's newest student scoffed. "Was that supposed to impress me by the way?"
His upperclassman moved into a hostile stance as he glared towards Ranma. "You dare mock our nation's most glorious art?" He seemed insulted. Good.
"What's so glorious about fighting with sticks? Kendo isn't an art, it's a sport. It's just a cheap knock-off of the real thing. Kenjutsu is solid, but what you're doing isn't it. This," he said, gesturing at Tatewaki's form, "is just a joke."
Kuno growled harshly before dashing towards his stationary opponent and launching a powerful overhead blow, his energy focused with a triumphant kiai.
Ranma, who had seen the blow coming from a mile away, moved his right hand into the proper position and easily caught the bokken before bleeding off the momentum to his right, coming to a stop at chest level. He felt his upperclassman's attempts to free his weapon but kept them at bay with little effort. He wasn't quite done talking yet.
"In the end, a stick is just a stick. Even if you strengthen your attacks with ki, it's useless if I can do the same. The core concept of kenjutsu involves sacrificing defense for overwhelming offense. Most battles end after the first blow, so speed is everything. Tell me Kuno, have you ever defeated an opponent?" he asked suddenly.
"Are you accusing me of lying?" Tatewaki hissed.
"No, dimwit, that's not what I meant." Kuno bristled in anger and redoubled his efforts to free his weapon. "I mean that, in all your officially sanctioned matches, did you beat your opponents until they could no longer move? Or did the referee simply force your opponents to give up because they would've been injured if you'd been using real swords? Everything in kendo is done with the assumption that you're wielding actual weapons but you're not and you probably never have. You're just a wannabe swordsman.
"You're a big fish in a small pond, Kuno. They would eat you alive out there in the ocean. I am a martial artist and you are an athlete. We live in different worlds and I'm not here to play games with you. Stop bothering me," he ordered before letting go of the wooden blade.
Naturally, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High could not contain his anger and attacked as soon as he was able. Unfortunately for him, he failed to learn his lesson from that morning. With both hands on the hilt of his bokken, Kuno was defenseless in extreme close range. Since he didn't bother trying to keep his distance, it was exceedingly easy for Ranma to penetrate his defenses after dodging his attack. In no time at all, Tatewaki Kuno was out for the count. Again.
Ranma dusted his hands off and nodded. There, maybe that would teach him.
Of course, he should have known better. But as he went through the day, beating Kuno left and right, a change occurred in Ranma.
If he was being honest, he would have to admit that he rather admired Tatewaki Kuno.
Really. No joke.
There was something about the man's determination to succeed no matter the odds that appealed to him. At first he was just irritated, but now he couldn't help but respect the sheer determination, to say nothing of his resistance to pain and humiliation, even as his skills and intelligence were openly disdained. It was like watching a mentally deficient puppy trying to make it to the other side of a wall by running straight at it. If you watched it long enough, you couldn't help but start hoping the bricks would crumble under the onslaught.
Of course, he wasn't going to lose or anything, but still.
"You know Kuno, you're amazing. Your persistence is just unbelievable. I've beaten you four times since this morning and you still come back for more!" said Ranma as he slid around a series of sharp swings. "You're so tenacious sempai! So focused! Imagine what you could accomplish if you were just a little more intelligent!"
"Rawr!" said Kuno.
Well, that's not exactly what he said. Kuno's actual reply was certainly much more verbose, seeing as his lips had yet to stop flapping about, but Ranma had taken to ignoring his words and replacing them with appropriate sounds. Kuno really was like a puppy, completely innocent and inoffensive, so from now on he was going to sound like one.
"Grr!" growled Kuno in a high-pitched tone. He stepped in and swung his bokken towards Ranma's neck, missing once again as Ranma ghosted around the attack.
Ranma's smile was drawn off his face when he recognized two of the figures standing by the school gate, watching his fight. His eyes didn't linger on them long, but the damage was instantaneous. The entertainment value of the fight plummeted into the realm of the tedious and the dull.
This is a waste of time.
Maybe… maybe he was going about this the wrong way.
He had thought that he could wait and had intended to do so, even just a few hours earlier, but his intentions were thoroughly battered by a dozen or so close calls. He never could have imagined the sheer number of cold water sources he would find in close proximity. It made him nervous. One errant splash and he would have to deal with more crap than he could ever withstand.
He was supposed to work on his maturity, but how could he? His mind kept going over the series of events that would inevitably occur if someone like Kuno learned of his secret. He could see it just now. Kuno would use the information to insult, humiliate or blackmail him and Ranma would have to kill him or at least maim him. He didn't want to do that. Kuno was an ass, but he didn't deserve that.
He didn't have the time to stick around this place, going to school, playing games with his seniors. He needed to get his body back, if only because he wasn't at all comfortable like this. Whenever he thought about it, every time it crossed his mind, it was like he could feel it crawling beneath his skin. How could he work on his spirit when he couldn't rely on his own body? He had to go back. He had to prove to his father that he could survive China.
There was only one way to convince Genma that he was ready.
A martial arts contest huh? Alright then. We'll do this your way, old man.
Ranma chuckled. "You know what Kuno? I think you've got the right idea."
"Woof!" barked Kuno.
If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. He wasn't mature enough, they said. His art wasn't good enough to survive China, to survive the Amazons. But they weren't offering to train him until he did get strong enough! They weren't lying to him, but were certainly underestimating his skill, nitpicking to reach their own ends. As if he needed to be perfect to beat one murderous girl!
Yeah right! I can handle Shampoo, no problem! If beating you isn't enough to make you believe that then I'll just have to up the ante, old man. And I did beat you, even if I lost the challenge. I'll silence the both of you!
He had a plan. It wasn't a particularly good one, but it was a plan. He might have to lie, but one way or the other, he was going back to China tomorrow.
Sorry, but I can't afford to stay here and I am not getting married like this. You can't hold me here, old man. Not if you won't teach me.
And Genma would not teach his son until he did what he wanted. Not that he had much else to teach him, really. Ranma's technique was polished to a shine. He had mastered every technique he had ever tried to learn, no matter how much it cost him.
His father told him just before they reached Jusenkyo that there was little else he could do to improve on his style. Now, he would have to work on his physical abilities. According to his father, that could wait until he reached his physical prime… in about ten years. In other words, he was on his own.
Ranma jabbed at Kuno's heart, hitting a particular point with a precise amount of pressure, immobilizing Kuno's limbs for close to a full second.
Kuno whimpered sorrowfully, pleading. But it was for naught. Ranma was merciless.
He didn't particularly like kicking puppies, but in his defense this particular breed was much uglier and stupider than others. Kuno was eating dirt in record time and Ranma was warmed up and ready for his next fight.
Ranma looked at his downed opponent and bowed his head. "Thank you, Kuno. I'm ready now. You really are an inspiration."
With a short laugh, Ranma walked away from the defeated challenger and towards the coming challenge. As he walked through a gap in a throng of chattering students, he saw Mr. Tendo's daughters and smiled. He'd always liked fighting with an audience.
"You look happy," Nabiki remarked. "Did you have fun beating Kuno-baby?"
"Not really."
She raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't look that way to me."
Ranma smirked. "Whatever. You don't have to believe me. I'm leaving soon, anyway."
Akane jerked up. "What? Where are you going?"
"I'm getting rid of this curse. I don't have any time to waste. My old man can stick around if he wants, but I'm outta here. I mean, what if there's a time limit or something? I know it's dangerous and I know he's worried, but I can take care of myself."
"Why won't he let you go anyway? I mean, what could possibly be dangerous enough to hold you two, big, strong martial artists away?" Nabiki asked.
Ranma grimaced. "It's a long story."
"I've got time."
"Yeah? Well, I don't."
The older girl crossed her arms. "Come on. It can't be that bad."
"Nabiki, maybe he doesn't want to talk about it?" Akane said.
Nabiki shifted her weight and stared at her younger sister. "What do you care, Akane? Don't tell me you like him. You just met him yesterday!"
Akane glared. "I never said that! I just thought that maybe he wouldn't like to be pestered by some nosy girl he just met. It's called being considerate Nabiki, you should try it sometime."
Seeing the frown on Nabiki's face was enough for him to decide to interrupt. "It's no big deal. Someone made a solemn vow to chase me to the ends of the earth and kill me."
The sisters stared at him in shock and disbelief. "You… you're kidding, right?"
"Nope. Why'd you think we got out of there so fast? We only got cursed about a week ago."
Nabiki recovered first. "Assuming you're telling the truth, what the hell did you do?"
Ranma shrugged. "We walked into a martial arts competition and ate the feast that was supposed to be the prize. So I entered the competition and defeated the champion in front of the entire village so we wouldn't get in trouble. Didn't work out. Turns out some people can't handle losing."
"Are you serious? What did he do? I mean, what makes you thing he was really trying to kill you?"
Ranma scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, you ever wake up with an arrow in your hand without knowing how it got there?"
Akane shook her head. "What?"
"Never mind. I don't think we want to know," Nabiki said.
Ranma shrugged and began to walk towards the Tendo's home. "Suit yourself."
"So, um… Ranma. How are you going to get to China? Your father already…"
Ranma watched Akane from the corner of his eye. He didn't really know what to make of this girl. She was pretty angry yesterday when she walked in on him in the bath and she had been outraged by the idea of becoming his fiancée, but now here she was acting like none of it had happened. She'd been pretty nice to him when she didn't know about his gender, though, so he decided not to give her any attitude. He wasn't going to be around for much longer anyway.
"My old man had a challenge for me and I failed it. He still hasn't given me a reason to stay, though."
Akane frowned. "So, you're just going to leave?"
"Nah. If I did, he'd just come after me. I could outrun him, but it would take a while. Besides, if I go to China with enemies in front and him at my back, I'll just exhaust myself. I have a better idea. He had a challenge for me and now, I have one for him."
"Really? What makes you think he'll accept?" asked Nabiki.
Ranma smiled. "He won't have a choice."
For the second time in as many evenings, the three daughters of Soun Tendo bore witness to a scene out of the ordinary.
As soon as the trio of students returned home from school, they headed into the family room where their fathers were entertaining themselves with ancient games and chilled drinks. Ranma entered the room like a hangman at an execution. Silence settled between the martial artists and grew fat and heavy with words unsaid.
Akane watched them with anticipation, drinking in the atmosphere with bated breath. There was something about these men that she couldn't clearly identify. It was like a heaviness that weighed on something intangible and forced unconscious reactions that she could not predict or resist. It was something she'd never really experienced before, in all her years as a martial artist, in all her years living with a master. She didn't really know what to feel about that. Part of her was amazed and awed, but another more egotistic part was very much saddened and frustrated.
She had believed that the barrier above her was the very limit of her potential, made of indestructible metals and forged by gods. She'd been wrong. Now that she was looking, she could see him on the other side, clearly and without distortion, because the ceiling was made of glass. Just… bonded sand.
Kasumi's quiet whisper barely reached her ears in any intelligible manner. "Nabiki? What's going on?"
Nabiki turned from the scene just beyond the open door and answered just as quietly, "Our young guest is about to show his dissatisfaction with our hospitality."
Suddenly, Akane realized that her sisters probably didn't understand exactly why they were whispering. She herself could only guess that it was out of some unconscious desire not to draw attention to themselves in the presence of such incomprehensible beings.
It was a very peculiar feeling. It wasn't quite a feeling of fear that spread from her father and his guests. Or rather, she didn't feel threatened by them. It was closer to how she felt in her youth when her father spoke to another adult and wanted her to stay out of the way. Not quite intimidation, but not entirely dissimilar. It was as if they had authority of some sort.
And that's when it clicked. She understood. It was power. She could feel their power.
Genma coughed. "Well, boy?"
Ranma crossed his arms. "You know why I'm here."
The father looked at his son and laughed. "Yes, I didn't think you'd be satisfied with just that," he said, turning back to the game board to move one of the pieces. "So, what have you come up with?"
Ranma's frown denoted his displeasure, but no more. She wondered what had caused it. Was he angry that his father wasn't taking this seriously? Or was he concerned because his father didn't seem at all surprised?
"You won't let me go to China."
"No, you aren't ready."
Ranma shook his head. "Why do I get a feeling that I'll only be ready once I get a ring on my finger?"
His father smiled. "You're a clever boy."
"I've got a challenge for you."
Genma moved another piece. "I'm listening."
"If I can beat you, you'll let me go to China."
He shook his head. "That's not enough, Ranma. Some things out there are more dangerous to you than me, especially since I'm your father."
Ranma turned his head slightly, and stared at her father. "You weren't the only one I was talking to, old man."
The game paused as the two men stared at one another. Genma looked at his son. "Now you're just getting cocky boy."
Ranma slowly approached the table until he loomed over the two men. "You think China is too dangerous. You don't think I'm strong enough. I don't agree with that. The only way to change your mind is to prove my ability. If I can beat two masters of Anything Goes martial arts then I'm strong enough to handle China. Not even you can tell me otherwise."
His father sighed heavily and crossed his arms. "You still don't understand why we left."
"I can handle her, old man," Ranma said, stressing his words.
"I know that!" Akane drew back under the force of the yell. "She's not what I'm worried about boy! If you can't even beat me without breaking some furniture, do you really think I can trust you to handle her without making more enemies? You have a gift for making people hate you boy."
Ranma stared at the space where their table used to be and grimaced. "So what? I'll just avoid her then."
Genma was undaunted. "That girl wasn't the strongest person in that village Ranma, not by a long shot. I want to be cured too, but it's just too dangerous to go right now. The village is too close to the springs. If we lay low for a while, we might be able to sneak in later. Listen to me, boy."
Ranma uttered a grunt of frustration and clenched his fists. Everyone could see that he was done listening. "Do you accept my challenge?"
The father stood. Flinty eyes seemed to bleed disapproval from behind dirty spectacles. The heaviness in the air multiplied. Akane turned to check on her sisters, worried about their reaction. Their eyes latched on to her, pleading for help. She looked up and down. Horror mounted her heart when she saw stillness in their chests. She tried to walk towards them, but couldn't bring herself to move her legs.
She heard Genma say, "Fine, I'll just have to beat the truth into you. Tendo?"
Her father seemed completely unruffled. He took one last sip from his ochoko and set it down. "Are you certain, old friend?"
"He won't listen to reason. Don't hold back."
Genma's last instruction was followed by a whirlwind of swift movement and sound. Heavy footsteps rang through the air as the three martial artists jockeyed for position. Ranma backpedaled urgently. He crossed several feet with every stride to avoid the brunt of his father's charge. He ducked and spun out of the way of crushing blows.
The doors to the backyard were right behind him, casting golden light into the room. The young man approached them at a fulgurous pace. He weaved around several more attacks then, for no reason that she could see, stepped directly into the path of an overarching kick. His father's thick shin struck his hastily constructed guard. His guard held, but he was pushed back several inches.
At the top edge of her vision, she saw a man fall from the sky.
Her father attacked from above like a screaming eagle dropping on its prey. It quickly became clear that he would overshoot his mark. He compensated, twisting about in midair. His right leg whipped towards his target.
He was too far. His foot only managed to graze Ranma's clothing. Soun landed sideways, with an arm and a leg dangling in the air.
Ranma shoved his father back. He whirled around, flipped forward and used every muscle he could harness to send his foot crashing down from above, screaming, "Hyaa!"
Soun's eyes were wide and uneasy. His arm moved to block the path of Ranma's ankle. The strength of her father's defense was nothing but a passing nuisance against the force of the boy's kick. It pushed past his guard. "Ooph!" A burst of air escaped his lungs. The kick hit him in the upper chest and carried him all the way down. He slammed into the floorboards with a cringe-inducing thump.
Ranma scrambled to regain his feet. He nearly lost his balance as he unexpectedly jerked to a stop. He pulled again, but went nowhere. Her father's hands were clutching his left leg.
Genma's face was a portrait of ferocity harnessed. His kick lunged towards his trapped son like a javelin shot forth from the hand of a demigod.
Ranma reacted. His wrists caught the strike from beneath. He had an instant to push it out of the way. He didn't succeed. It hit him squarely in the shoulder. He was sent tumbling back, over her father's body and into the ground.
Apprehension rang clearly in Akane's mind. That must have hurt.
A flurry of obscured movement sent Soun rolling across the ground. Now freed, Ranma flipped to his feet. Just like yesterday, his leg moved so fast it disappeared from her perception.
Genma skidded to a stop and jerked his head back. It wasn't quite enough. Ranma's toes caught the edge of his glasses and knocked them off their perch. By the time they hit the ground, his son was no longer in the room.
Genma sighed. "Damn it." He turned towards her father. "How are you doing?"
Soun climbed to his knees. "Well, I must say my pride is quite bruised."
Mr. Saotome let out a sharp laugh and said, "You get used to it." He extended his hand. "Come now, no rest for the weary."
Her father grabbed on and was pulled to his feet. "What was that kick he used against you?"
"No shadow kick. Something he picked up from a monk last year."
Her father looked surprised. "He? You mean you don't know it?"
Genma smiled wryly. "The boy says he's willing to negotiate, but his price is ridiculous. Selfish little…"
"You haven't figured it out?"
"He knows me too well. I'm guessing he modified it for his own use. I keep trying, but it never works out well." Genma shook his head. "Watch out for that. He's used that move twice in two days. He's never done that before. The boy is dangerous when he's angry. Let's take our time, wear him down. Don't attack him if it will leave you open."
Soun nodded and rubbed at his chest. "I didn't think he would dodge that. How much damage do you think he took from that kick you landed?"
"Not enough to slow him down."
Her father smiled. "I didn't think so."
Genma picked up his glasses and put them back on. "Alright then, let's get to it."
The two men rushed out of the room. The sound of combat reached her ears soon after.
"Okay." Nabiki sounded composed, incredulous and completely pissed off. "Now that I can move again, will someone please tell me what the hell just happened?"
Kasumi pressed her hands against her heart and sighed. "Well, that was unpleasant."
Relief flooded into her as she watched her sisters, apparently uninjured, "Are you two okay? I thought you couldn't breathe."
"Well, it wasn't quite that bad," said Kasumi.
Nabiki thought differently. "What are you talking about? It was horrible!" She turned to her younger sister. "I saw you move, Akane. How did you do that? I tried everything and I couldn't even move a finger."
Akane shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think it's because I'm better trained than you two."
"Not exactly. It's because you have more confidence in your ability to defend yourself."
Akane and Nabiki turned to stare at their sister. Kasumi met their eyes evenly. "What? I may not practice the art, but I am father's eldest daughter."
She was a gentle soul, but Kasumi's authority was unquestioned. Her younger sisters looked away.
"Well, yeah. But why doesn't Akane know then?"
"Akane was never interested in learning the theory behind what father taught her. He was always disappointed with that, so he talked about Akane's training with me." Kasumi shrugged. "I listened."
"Oh." Akane had not been aware of this. The idea that her father had to go to one of her sisters in order to discuss martial arts was somewhat hurtful. She pushed it to back of her mind. "Um… So, Kasumi. What was that?"
"What do you think?"
Akane held back a grimace. She hated it when Kasumi did this. Why couldn't she just tell her the answer? "I'm not sure. I think… maybe it was their power?"
Nabiki looked skeptical. "What? What does the size of their muscles have to do with anything?"
Kasumi gave her sister an unfriendly look. "Let her speak, Nabiki."
With her sister thus reprimanded and silenced, Akane felt comfortable enough to continue. "Well, I'm not talking about their physical strength. It's more… mental. No, emotional. They were angry, and we could feel that. We didn't want to draw their attention to us because we knew that they're so much stronger. At least, that's what I think."
Kasumi nodded. "Yes, that sounds right. You'd have to ask father to get a proper answer. We were paralyzed by Ranma and Mr. Saotome's battle aura."
Nabiki frowned. "Battle aura? Is that a technique or something? What the hell are those two idiots doing using something like that near us?"
"Come now. Don't insult our father's guests. A battle aura is perfectly natural phenomenon that occurs around skilled martial artists when they begin to express aggression," Kasumi explained.
Nabiki crossed her arms. "Oh really. How come I've never felt one before now? Daddy gets angry all the time."
"Of course you've felt it, Nabiki. It just didn't affect you in the same way. You know our father will never hurt you. Haven't you ever wondered why none of our friends ever want to come over?"
Nabiki started. "They always said Daddy was scary, but… I could never see why. It's because of his aura?"
Kasumi nodded. "The reason why we were so affected this time is because we aren't used to the Saotomes yet… and because young Saotome is very headstrong. His father was very angry."
"Headstrong?" Nabiki scoffed. "I think you mean stupid. I mean really, what kind of plan was that? He thinks he can just beat everyone into submission? What a brute."
Akane thought about that for a moment. Nabiki's words didn't rest well with her. "I don't know. Sometimes… sometimes you have to fight for what you want, even if it means going up against one man or one thousand, against one master or ten. I mean, he's fighting for his freedom, isn't he?"
Nabiki shook her head. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. What's the point of starting a fight you can't possibly win?"
"I think you might be underestimating him," Kasumi remarked.
Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you think he's going to win."
"Not today, but he might if he gets lucky. I don't know about Mr. Saotome, but father is very worried, tense. Ranma made a smart choice. He's got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Even if he loses this fight, he can just try again tomorrow or later, and he can keep trying until he does win."
"What?"
Kasumi explained, "The challenge has been accepted. Father and Mr. Saotome can no longer refuse it without losing face, and face is the only thing keeping Ranma here. Father and Mr. Saotome are in quite the pickle. They're on the defensive, and Ranma is just going to keep attacking."
"Huh. Okay, so maybe he thought that out more than I thought he did. It's still a bad idea." Nabiki glanced towards the battle going on outside and headed off. "I'm going upstairs. I've got things to do."
Kasumi hummed. "I think I'll get the first aid kit."
Akane watched both her sisters walk off in opposite directions and chose to walk into the sunshine. Into a world filled with passion and fury. With headstrong boys and stubborn men.
She didn't know who she would root for, but for now that didn't matter. For now, the fight was all.
Ow.
The heavy mists of unconsciousness hindered his every act, his every perception. They wrapped around his limbs like phantom children seeking respite from the cold. They filled his mind like poisoned, thickened blood trying to squeeze its way through his brain's capillaries. The end result was not unlike a busy highway during rush hour. Everything was obscured by thick, noxious smog and slowed to a crawl.
And yet, even with his perception of the world so occluded, the pain of his existence shone through.
It hurt. He was hurt. His body had sustained damage. His cells and nerves screamed into the void of their agony, and he heard their plea. Their family and friends murdered, their comrades mutilated. His body was crying, and with nothing else to focus on, it was all he could do not to join in.
It would pass eventually, in mere seconds most likely. Still, there was little worse than the first moments of awareness after waking from unconsciousness. Ranma took a deep breath and slipped into a state of deep meditation, directing his body to use the resources his life and soul brought to the table.
His cells quieted. Their god had listened. They were becoming whole again. Recovering what they had lost. Healing what could not be recovered.
The mists dissipated in turn. His eyes opened.
A beautiful young woman appeared before him. What's her name again? It took him a moment to remember. Kasumi, the oldest of his potential fiancées. She was nineteen and… he knew nothing else about her. Was he really expected to marry one of these girls? You're an idiot, old man.
Her eyes drifted towards him and quickly latched on to his face. "Oh! You're awake," she said.
Ranma nodded and began to shimmy his way out of the futon he was lying in. They had brought him to the guest room, he could see his pack laying in the corner. A closer look revealed that his father's bag was conspicuously absent.
Heh. See you in China, old man.
"Do you always smile like that when you get your butt handed to you?"
Ranma turned in the voice's direction and met a pair of naked, shapely legs. He blinked. His eyes began the arduous task of climbing the mountain of female before him. The moved up the sleek slopes of her naked thighs and just kept on climbing. Finally, on the verge of reaching her hips, they latched on to the pale fabric of a pair of shorts that protected her modesty.
Something inside of him sighed in relief.
The rest of the climb was much simpler and took his eyes past an elaborate shirt that offered little to no protection, past her delicate neck and towards her lips.
Ranma frowned. He recognized the tilt of her lips. Reading body language was an excellent skill for any martial artist, one he had mastered a decade ago. If there was one thing he knew, besides the art that is, it was mockery. Nabiki, the second oldest of his potential fiancées was mocking him.
"What was that?" he asked.
"You were smiling. I didn't know you had anything to smile about," she said.
"Humph! You must not know much then."
Her smile didn't budge. "You've got a lot of nerve for someone who was just beaten into unconsciousness."
Ranma smirked. "And you've got a big mouth for someone who doesn't know what she's talking about."
"Enlighten me, then."
Immediately, Ranma realized what she had been trying to do. She was working him for information. It was a classic move. Get an opponent angry and he'll make a mistake. All of sudden, he remembered that all three of these girls had been raised by a master of Anything Goes. They may not all practice martial arts, but that didn't mean they didn't learn anything.
Three daughters… Akane, Nabiki and Kasumi.
Body, mind and soul. No… It can't be.
Right then, he was struck with a realization that shook the foundations of his relationship with these girls. The greatest strength of the art was composed by unifying the body, the mind and the soul. He had barely spent more than a few hours with any of the girls, but even he could see that each of Soun Tendo's daughters had followed one path of the art more than the others.
Soun Tendo… did you plan for this? Or is this just a coincidence? Pick the one I want, huh? You meant, pick the one I have the most trouble with. The one that will help me grow the most. Heh, that's one hell of a choice. I don't have trouble with any of them. The body holds the technique, the mind carries the understanding and the spirit gives power. My body is clever, my mind is strong and my spirit is unbendable. Bet you didn't expect that, did ya?
"Well? Are you concussed or something?"
Ranma looked at Nabiki's annoyance and smiled. His current train of thought could wait. He could think of marriage after he returned from China. However, this girl was all kinds of arrogant if she believed that she could handle his anger. It was kind of funny, so he decided to indulge her.
"Okay. Anything in particular you wanted to know?"
Her smile slipped off. She hesitated. He knew what she was thinking. She was expecting him to come out with some lengthy diatribe from which she could pick out whatever information she wanted or, barring that, she expected him to back off. Instead, he was inviting her to take what she wanted.
During a fight, if one participant insults another, he expects a response. The other participant can either attack in anger, potentially revealing a weakness, or remain unaffected. Ranma did neither. He basically walked away from the fight, or even better, he stood his ground and asked her to punch him in the face as hard as she could. There's no way she could ever feel comfortable taking that opportunity.
He was right. This girl really did know the art. As unlikely as it may have seemed, her actions and responses fit within the boundaries of Anything Goes martial arts. She even had a predilection towards offense. Interesting.
Kasumi jumped onto the opportunity left by her sister's silence. "Ranma, do you mind if I asked a question?"
He threw a glance towards her. She looked concerned. "Sure, go ahead."
"Are you really okay? You looked so injured… Father didn't pull his punches."
Ranma smirked. "Of course not, I wouldn't have gone down if he had." With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself to his feet, waving off Kasumi's attempts to help.
Standing upright, he stretched and pulled his muscles in every which way, wincing whenever he worked something tender. Someone had stripped him of his shirt and replaced it with strips of bandages and acrid smelling ointment. He shrugged his shoulders. Cracked his neck.
Good. Full range of motion.
He was battered, bruised and he'd try to avoid looking at himself in a mirror for a while, but he could still fight. He was fine.
"Yeah, I'm good."
Kasumi sighed. "That's fortunate."
Ranma nodded. "Now, do you mind if I ask you something?" He waited until she shook her head and continued, "If I'm right, my old man and your old man decided to skip out of town for training or something."
Kasumi blinked. Nabiki stared at him. "Yes," the oldest admitted. "How did you know?"
Ranma pressed on. "Did he say how long they'd be gone?"
"Mr. Saotome didn't say much, but Father said he would contact us in four or five days."
He mulled it over for a second. "Four days huh? They'll probably call in half that time… maybe less. Okay, I guess that's enough of a head start."
Nabiki stepped in front of him. "You're leaving?"
"In less than an hour," he confirmed.
"How'd you know?"
"How I'd know they'd leave?" Nabiki nodded, her expression unreadable. "It's because they can't afford to lose."
She crossed her arms, and seemed immersed in thought. "You weren't fighting to win."
He shook his head. "I was. I always do. I put everything I had into that fight." And I lost. "But you're right. This is my main plan. Winning was my backup."
"What would you have done if they hadn't left?"
He shrugged. "I would have challenged them again. And again. And again. They know that. They had to leave, really. They can't even attack me as hard as they might like without looking bad. Two masters against one underage boy? Imagine if they had broken some of my bones and had to bring me to a hospital. They had to worry about that during the fight, and that weakens them. They may have won, but they could feel how close they came to losing. That will press on their minds, it will make them anxious. They know that if they fight me again, they might make mistakes they won't be able to recover from. Their confidence is shot. The only way to build that up is to practice and they couldn't do that anywhere near me. If my old man's not here to hold me down, there's nothing keeping me here."
Kasumi expression showed deep worry. Her hands squeezed each other in her lap. "Ranma, I don't know about this. This seems dishonest."
Ranma nodded. "It is. That's why I'm leaving now. They have so much more to lose than I do. So many more things to worry about. All I have to do is fight and they would have broken eventually. I don't want that. I just want to get my body back. I want to be able to swim again without feeling this curse twist my body into something I'm not. I want to be able to go to school without having to keep an eye on every single source of water in the building. You can't deny me that."
Her eyes stared at the floor. Her lips twitched and pressed together.
Ranma walked the few steps that separated them and crouched to her eye level. Her eyes connected with his immediately.
He stared her down and spoke the truth. "I will fight them on every turn, at every opportunity. As long as they stand in my way, there will be no rest for any of us. It'll just be unnecessarily painful, Kasumi. If I stay here, I will break them. I will."
She could not stand his intensity and turned aside.
"Please. Don't try to stop me. Let me go. Let me be free."
Silence enveloped them, broken only by the sound her breath. Her eyelids dropped to protect her from the world.
He waited.
Her lips pulled apart and returned together, allowing nothing to pass. Her eyes opened, and traced the contours of his face.
He waited still.
She glanced at her sister, communicating silently. She sighed, closed her eyes and nodded.
"Thank you."
He stood. His travel pack sat in the corner of the room, waiting for his support. He had never bothered to unpack, so everything he couldn't spare was still inside. Visions of the road ahead urged him on. The sooner he left, the better. Time would make him harder to find. For the first time in his life, he was about to set out on a journey without his father by his side.
Looks like it's just me this time. Adios, old man. Till we meet again.
He looped his arm into one of the straps and pulled. The bag didn't budge. It was much too heavy. With so much on his mind, he didn't really notice this or think about it at all. For the most part, he was functioning on automatic. His knees bent and his grip clenched around the straps. With his muscles prepared and advised and with leverage in his corner, he pulled again. This time, it cleared the ground.
His pack was heavy enough to shatter the floorboards it fell onto when his fingers lost the power to hold it. The crash it made was barely loud enough to make itself heard over the sound of his suffering. He screamed.
AAARRGH! What?
He fell, and hit the ground on his side. He clutched at his leg without comprehension. It hurt. It hurt. He could do nothing but acknowledge that one singular truth. It hurt.
His leg felt like quicksilver. One moment, it was solid, reliable, functional. The next, it felt like his cells learned of disgust and warred with their neighbor. Like each and every one forged knives out his nerves and stabbed one another incessantly, each act serving only to shoot raw pain to his psyche.
He breathed like he was starved for air. Adrenaline was pumped through his veins. He knew what was happening, dimly. His body was overreacting, preparing itself for deadly battle. Each of his cells bathed in energy. They held nothing back. They worked harder, created more heat, making him sweat. He burned from the inside out.
He was in agony.
I… I can't… Aargh…
Ranma howled. His thoughts were scattered. He had been caught off guard. Without focus, he couldn't muster up the will he needed to overcome this cutting pain.
No. Enough. Don't suffer. Endure.
His eyes snapped open, unseeing. His mouth opened, but he said nothing. He clenched his teeth and fell silent. Time passed.
"Ranma!"
She was shaking him. His hands clasped around her wrists, stopping her. He took a deep breath. "How long was I out?"
Kasumi shook her head. "I… I… I'm not sure. A minute, maybe?" She seemed a little distraught. Her hands trembled in his grasp.
He let her go. "Huh. Felt like forever."
"What happened?"
Akane stood in the middle of the room, wearing a yellow gi. She must have been practicing. Her eyes fluttered in their sockets, watching the area for threats. Her fists were clenched. She was in a dangerous mood.
Ranma mulled over her words for a second. He had an idea but… "I'm not sure. Let me check."
In one swift movement, he flipped to his feet, making sure to keep the affected leg off the ground. Akane and Kasumi tried to get him to lay back down, but he waved them off. Nabiki remained silent, watching the scene with cool eyes.
Ranma slowly extended his leg to its full length. Nothing. He brought it towards his chest. Nada. He twisted it and turned it in every direction. Zilch. Finally, he executed a magnificent combination of kicks that would have laid down a giant.
He frowned.
He put his foot back on the ground and put a little weight on it.
Crippling pain writhed through his body. But he was ready for it this time. His knees buckled, but he refused to crumble. His teeth clenched together, and he couldn't help but groan. "Arrgh…"
"Ranma!"
He slammed his hand against the wall and held himself up. He waved them off again. "I'm okay. I'm fine. Do me a favor, will ya? Open my backpack."
"What?" Akane asked.
"My backpack. Open it."
Hesitantly, she took a few steps towards his pack, looking back to see if he would change his mind. Eventually, she reached the bag and began to rummage through it. "What? Weights? Hey! These are ours!"
Ranma sighed. He looked at the ceiling as the pain faded. "Hey, these bandages… who put them on me?"
"Huh? Oh, after your fight, Dad called Dr. Tofu and…"
"This doctor… he a martial artist?"
Akane paused before answering. "Yeah…"
"Shiatsu master?"
"Well, y-yeah… B-but Dr. Tofu would never…"
Ranma lowered his head and chuckled. "Heh, looks like the old man was one step ahead of me. Did the doctor leave anything? A pair of crutches maybe?"
Akane started. She looked down. "Yeah… He said… he said you might need them."
"You mind getting them for me?"
"No…"
"Thanks. Oh yeah. Do you have anything like a list of all the martial arts schools in the city?"
She looks to him, seeming a little surprised. "Um… yeah. I think I have an address book, somewhere. You want me to get it after I get the crutches?"
"Actually, could you get that first? I'm not going anywhere for a while anyway." She nodded. "Thanks Akane. I appreciate it."
She smiled dimly and nodded again. She left the room slowly, with her head bowed and her shoulders drooping.
Kasumi stood. "Ranma, I feel I must apologize for this."
He stared at her. "Why? You didn't do anything."
She fidgeted. "While my father isn't here, this house is my responsibility. I feel that I have to make amends for the way you've been treated."
Ranma waved her off. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Besides, this is mostly between me and my old man anyway. Your father's just along for the ride."
She looked disappointed. "Are you sure?"
He leaned his back against the wall and slid down. "Well, I guess I'm a little hungry. Is there anything to eat around here?"
"Oh, oh of course! I'll get dinner started right away. Please, excuse me." Kasumi bowed her head and swiftly exited the room.
The only sister left pierced him with her stare for a long second. Then, on some unseen signal, she pushed off the wall and headed out.
"Hey, Nabiki, wait a second."
She arched an eyebrow. "What? Don't tell me you have a task for me too. You've got Akane fetching books and Kasumi cooking dinner. What could you possibly want from little old me?"
Ranma cracked his neck to the side and yawned. "I'm just guessing, but I think you're the least attached to the good doctor. So you're my best bet."
She crossed her arms, but seemed interested. "You want information?"
"A guide," he corrected. "I need to pay him a visit."
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, I'll try to get him to undo whatever he did to my leg… but either way, he needs to learn how to stay out of my business."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why should I help you?"
He smirked. "Come on. Live a little. It'll be fun."
She didn't believe him. "How could it possibly be fun?" she asked.
"Haven't you ever wanted to see a cripple beat up a doctor?"
She cracked a smile. "Alright. I guess it'll be worth it just to see you lose, but you owe me one."
He nodded, smiling back. "As long as it's not my soul."
Over two years since I wrote for this? It's been a while.
Well, I wanted to write something simple (all of my other fics are really complicated), so here I am. Hope you enjoyed this. If you didn't, then please keep your comments constructive. If you're just looking to bitch then you can go elsewhere.
Surprisingly, I had a lot of fun writing this, so chances are good that it won't take two years for me to write some more.