You take a deep breath. Remain calm. Do not panic. You can handle this.
"Wait, wait, wait," the imp says abruptly. "I recognize that expression!" She points at your father. "YOU have no idea who or what I am, do you?"
"Good guess," Tony admits faintly. He has the look of a man who would like to wake up now, but is having trouble making the bizarro dream stop.
"And YOU," she continues, pointing at you, "have been keeping SECRETS from your family, haven't you?"
You don't quite glare at the tiny demon, who you are increasingly starting to dislike. She just grins, toothily.
"Okay, I take it back; this is going to be even BETTER than the game."
"Alex?" your dad repeats, looking a touch less dazed, and more Parentally Suspicious and Concerned. "Explain? Please?"
"Yeah, Alex," the imp echoes. "Explain. Please."
Urge to smite, rising.
"Okay. Dad. The truth is, the world is stranger than you know. The supernatural is real - as evidence, see Exhibit I-"
Still smirking, she poses.
"-and keeping things very short and simple for the moment, because Mom is probably going to want the full story as well, I've been involved with the weird side of things for a while now."
"How long, and how involved are we talking here, Alex?"
This is your Dad. You decide to be honest... but not COMPLETELY honest. There are some things that would only freak him out if he knew about them, to no good or useful purpose. For example, that whole bit about you having been semi-conscious in the womb? Yeah, that's more than a little creepy, and not exactly urgent need-to-know stuff. You're not terribly keen on explaining the whole reincarnation thing to your folks, either - certainly not where a complete stranger and demon can hear it - but if it turns out to be necessary, you can do so without going into all the unsettling details.
So, for now at least, the plan is to be honest, but not too detailed.
"As far back as I can remember," you tell your father, "and involved enough that I can get away with taking Moblin to school with me."
Your dad blinks a couple of times. You can actually see the moment of dawning realization behind his eyes, when he puts the available information together and does not simply shrug off the answer with a feeble rationalization like, "Boys will be boys," or, "It's just a phase, he'll grow out of it." Then he looks worried.
"Is Moblin-"
"He's just a dog, Dad," you assure him.
"Then how have you been getting away with taking him to school all the time? And why didn't I notice that sooner?"
...oh, dear. That's... mostly frustration you're hearing in your Dad's voice at the moment, but there's a faint, underlying tone of what sounds like the barest makings of fear. Hearing it, you can't help but think of that line of Yoda's that's been in the commercials for the new Star Wars movie.
"Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads... to suffering."
"I sense much fear in you."
Okay, your Dad isn't nearly at the point of throwing Force Lightning yet, but you'd really rather not see him totally freak out.
"For the part about how I've been getting away with taking Moblin to school with me," you say carefully, "the answer is that I've been using magic."
"...magic."
"Yeah. I mean, I'm not making Moblin invisible or anything, just sort of... encouraging people not to make a fuss about him being there. I don't think it'd actually work in a regular town, but there's something about Sunnydale that makes people want to overlook odd stuff."
Your father frowns. "Like dogs hanging out in classrooms."
"As one example, yes. As for why you didn't notice before - well, the Sunnydale effect is a part of that, too, but honestly, Dad, when were you in a position TO notice that my dog wasn't staying at home on weekdays? You leave for work before I go to school each day, and my last class ends, what, an hour before you get off work? That's more than enough time for me to come home, drop off my books, and go to Sensei's place on the days I have lessons. Sometimes Moblin comes with me for that, other times, he stays home."
Tony frowns, opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again and looks thoughtful. With his attention elsewhere, you take the opportunity to give the imp a wordless signal to leave.
Gained Sign Language F (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
She blinks and gestures at herself, her body language clearly asking, "Moi?" with all innocent surprise.
Your answering expression says, "Who else is here?"
The imp shrugs, smirks, and gives no indication that she's inclined to depart.
With a quiet mutter and a shake of your head, you dismiss the imp from your thoughts - if only for the time being - and re-focus on your father. Although your choice of words could have been taken as a (mild) condemnation of him as an absentee parent, he doesn't appear to have interpreted them as such. Which is good, because that's: a) really not what you were going for, and; b) simply not true. Not unless every other parent who works ten hour days, five days a week, also falls under that category.
"Now that you mention it," Tony says slowly, "that does make sense. Although..."
"Yeah?"
"What does Moblin eat? Do you take a can of dog food with you every day, or what?"
It's an amazingly mundane question, but you guess that your dad is just grasping for something normal amidst the strangeness you've been forced to dump on him.
"The lunchladies usually have something meaty left over towards the end of lunch break that they don't mind Moblin having," you admit. "And if some of it looks almost exactly like dog food, well, bonus for Moblin. And also why I prefer the bagged lunches." You make a face.
"That brings up another point," your father says then. "I can buy how I missed this, but what about your Mom? Shouldn't she have noticed you taking Moblin to school every day when she was on maternity leave with your sister? And for that matter, what about Zelda?"
You consider that. Your old man makes some good points; your mother and sister both SHOULD have noticed, and at least one of them ought to have commented on Moblin's absence during the days. Your mother out of concern for how you'd react if and when your dog turned up missing, Zelda because the doggy wasn't around for her to play with. So... why didn't they?
After a long silence, you shake your head. The only idea that comes to mind is that your mother is secretly a magic-user, and is just waiting patiently for you to notice and/or to come to her for help, teaching one of those roundabout lessons that are always borderline traumatizing for the student and sadistically amusing for the teacher. And really, between you, Briar, Amy's occasional visits, and Lu-sensei being a veteran of the nightlife, you can't see how you'd have missed something like that for all this time.
"I think the two of us are going to have to go inside and ask Mom about that, Dad, 'cause I've got nothing," you admit. "Nothing that makes sense, anyway."
"Strange, I know exactly how you feel," your father remarks wryly. Shaking his head, he turns back inside. "Well, come on. No time like the present."
You nod, and almost immediately reach out one hand to form a barrier in front of the imp, who'd taken all of two tiny strides towards the open door.
"Not you, short stuff," you say firmly. "Your job's done, and what my Dad just said was a response to my statement for me and him to go in - NOT an invitation for you to tag along."
"You know I'm not a vampire or a fairy or anything like that, right?" the imp replies blandly. "I don't NEED to be invited in."
Actually, you hadn't known that, but you're not really surprised to hear it.
"Fairies, too?" you hear your Dad demand of the universe in general in a low, absent tone. "Seriously?"
"This isn't about thresholds," you tell the imp calmly. "This is about manners, which you really ought to start using. You haven't been invited in, and since you're a stranger and all, you're not going to be invited in. Plus, you've delivered the message you were supposed to, so your work here is done and there's no reason that you need to come inside."
"Sure there is," the imp replies. "Watching you fumble your way through explaining reality to your folks promises to be the best show in the last year."
"As I was saying," you continue, "it would be very rude of you to force your way into our home unasked, and if you decide to stop being polite, tell me, is there any reason why I shouldn't do the same thing?"
That gives the imp pause. She actually cringes away from you for a moment, though she covers that reaction with a look of annoyance.
"Well, when you put it that way," she grumbles. "Fine, I get the message. I'll just... wander off into the night, and try not to get run over or eaten by anything..."
You sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to be the bad guy here." Very much the opposite, really. "I just don't know you from a hole in the wall, so I have no reason to trust you, and plenty of reasons NOT to." Lowering your voice and hoping your father doesn't hear this next part, you add, "Or are you going to claim differently, considering that we both know what goes bump in the night around here?"
"Oh, sure, be all reasonable and stuff."
"And like you said, I'm going to have a rough time talking to my parents as it is. I'd rather not have an audience making things harder with wisecracks. So, if you'll do me this favor and take off, I'll go ahead and have a sudden attack of forgetfulness about your creative editing of Beryl's message."
The tiny demoness regards you frankly. "You promise?"
"I promise."
"...well, alright then. But I'm going to hold you to that, Junior."
With that pint-sized warning, the imp unfurls her wings for a second time, beats them steadily for a moment, and then takes another running start. This time around she has no trouble getting airborne, and she flies off into the growing twilight, hugging the rooftops and soon disappearing from your sight and other senses.
Well, as awkward and drawn out as that was, you did finally figure out how to get a (very) minor demon to leave your family property without having to resort to open violence. You'll go ahead and call that a plus.
Gained Demonology E (Plus) (Plus)
Gained King of Monsters F
"Do I even want to know what that was all about?" your father asks from the door.
"That," you say as you walk over to your waiting father, "was me getting an unexpected telegram."
"Oh?"
"One of the people I met in Japan and didn't get around to exchanging contact information with decided she wanted to get in touch," you say, the back door closing behind you. "She could have found out that I was from Sunnydale by checking the tournament info, but that wouldn't have given her a mailing address or a phone number, and I guess she couldn't get ahold of a Sunnydale telephone directory wherever she lives. She appears to have decided to use magic to make up the difference, by sending a messenger that could take the time to look around town and find me. The messenger in question just happened to be a Raiders fan, and was acting snippy about the whole thing because there's a game on tonight that she was missing."
"Not much to miss," Tony notes with faint amusement.
"Alexth!"
Further conversation is temporarily derailed by the incoming Sister-to-Sibling Missile.
"Are you okay? Ith the thmall thadow-perthon gone? Did thhe hurt you?"
"I'm fine, she's gone, and no, she didn't hurt me."
Zelda looks from you to your father and then back again. "Are you in trouble?"
You look at your Dad, and then your Mom, who's just come out of the living room after Zelda's seemingly rocket-powered exit. Briar drifts past her, and Moblin can be seen sitting at ease in the middle of the carpet, tail thumping idly against the floor as he watches and waits for you to come in. Your parents trade a wordless look - Tony still pale and a bit wild around the eyes, Jessica visibly worried but also curious - and then turn their attention to you.
"...I'm in for a talk," you answer your little sister.
Zelda nods. "You're in trouble."
"You're thtill in trouble," Zelda says firmly.
You give your smiling little sister a look, but decide not to correct her.
"Tony?" your mother asks then. "What's going on?"
"We, uh... or rather, Alex, had... well, a visitor. A very small, strange visitor."
"Not one of the kids from school, I take it?"
Your father starts to reply, then blinks, closes his mouth, and turns to you with a questioning look.
You shake your head. "Definitely not. I've been looking."
For all that it clearly relieves your father, the exchange leaves your mother mystified. "What am I missing here, boys?"
"Well, you see, dear-" your father begins.
"Actually, Mom-" you say at the same time.
Both of you fall silent and wordlessly gesture for the other to continue.
"Boys," Jessica says, more firmly and definitely more suspiciously than before.
You and your father trade glances, recognizing the early warning signs.
Zelda giggles.
You are tempted to keep things brief by simply telling your mother that the supernatural in general and magic in particular are real, and that Zelda was spooked because an imp showed up in the backyard. Basically, what you said to your father, or what he was able to see for himself.
The fact that you have already given your father the short, short version, and left him expecting more in the way of details, is part of the reason why you decide to be a bit more generous when presenting your case to your mother.
That, and she's giving you the Suspicious Mom Look, and you really don't want it going up to Annoyed Mom or Angry Mom. Not that you've ever actually seen Angry Mom, outside of fleeting, twice-suppressed memories of Ganondorf's childhood screwups, but you'd rather not take the chance - particularly since your father seems to share the sentiment, hinting that even without combat training and desert magic, your mother is formidable in her own right when roused.
"Okay, Mom. This is probably going to sound like I'm crazy or making it up, but I swear, I'm telling you the truth. I have evidence and witnesses, including Dad - at least for what happened in the yard."
The building annoyance in your mother's expression fades, replaced by more concern as she turns, briefly, to your father, before looking back at you. "Alright, Alex. You have my attention."
"...how about we go sit down?" you suggest, gesturing towards the living room. "This may take a while."
"...alright."
Your folks take the big couch, Zelda sitting between them, kicking her legs idly against the upholstery. Feeling too nervous to sit, you stand in front of them and with your back to the turned-off TV, considering the words you will use and trying not to pace or fidget too much. Sensing the mood, Moblin has sat himself up to your right and is now alert and intent. Briar has alighted on the rigth arm of your mother's usual chair.
"Okay, Mom," you begin. "You know how Zelda talks about a 'pretty butterfly lady' sometimes? Well, there's a reason for that, and it ties into why she was spooked tonight. You see, the 'visitor' I got out back wasn't actually human..."
Slowly and nervously at first, but with steadily-increasing momentum, you begin to explain the truth to your parents. Not all of it, not even most of it - that'll be a discussion for many, many nights in the future, assuming they care to hear it at all. Right now, you're just focusing on the important stuff. At first it's imps and fairies, and why you and your sister are seeing them - which leads into what an imp was doing looking for you in the first place, and so goes back to the tournament. From there, magic and mystical kung-fu enter the telling, along with a clearer idea of what the "bombing" at the tournament actually involved. Finally, you come back to Sunnydale, and explain to your parents how you originally began learning the martial and mystical arts, and why it is that your sister has a thing for talking to - and about - and drawing tiny people with insect wings.
When you're done, there is silence.
"...is that everything?" your mother asks in an entirely too-calm tone of voice.
"Not quite," your father says then. "See, Alex admitted he'd been taking his dog to school and, uh, 'encouraging' people there not to make a fuss about it, in the Jedi mind trick sense. Now, he had a pretty reasonable explanation for why I didn't notice anything was up-"
"Oh, that's because you're always out of the house when Alex is at school, dear."
"-yeah," Tony replies slowly, "that's what he said. But neither of us could come up with an explanation for why you hadn't said anything on the matter."
"Do you remember my Granny Kate, dear?"
"Little old lady with the king-sized dog that had a bark like a cannon going off? Hard to forget."
"Well, Granny always said that old Rex wasn't a normal dog. And while I never saw or heard of him doing anything... unusual... Granny had pictures of him going back fifty years. She got him as a wedding present, you see, and he was with her until the day she died."
You and your father both consider that. While you're far from an expert, you do know that normal dogs don't live half a century.
"So when I noticed that Alex was getting away with taking his dog to school all the time, I thought it might have been something like that. Since Moblin wasn't making any trouble or getting Alex into trouble, I let it go." Your mother frowns. "But you're saying you were doing that all this time, Alex?"
"More or less, yes."
"...no more taking your dog to school, Alex. And stop casting spells on your classmates. Granny Kate would tan my hide for letting you carry on like that."
"As for everything else you've told us about," your mother says then, "you mentioned evidence and witnesses. I'm guessing the latter would be Mr. Lu and Cordelia" - your mother glances out the window at the twilight-darkened street - "and it's too late to be asking people over. So what about this evidence?"
"No buts, Alex," your mother says firmly. "Students aren't supposed to bring their pets to school. The fact that you've been able to use magic to get away with breaking the rules doesn't change the fact that you've been breaking the rules."
You hesitate. "Would it be okay if I took Moblin to class without casting spells on anybody?"
"Alex..."
"If anybody says anything," you add quickly, "I'll start leaving him at home. It's just... I've always taken Moblin to school with me. We're both used to it, he certainly seems to enjoy it, and I don't really know what he'd do with himself if he was left alone all day."
For a moment, you think that your mother is going to put her foot down. Then, she sighs. "Alright - but only as long as nobody says anything. If a teacher talks to you about it or I get a call from the principal, I expect that to be the end of it. Understood?"
"Yes, Mom!" you reply cheerfully.
Your mother sighs, and glances at her husband. "What are you smiling about?" she asks suspiciously.
"Nothing, dear."
"Hmmm."
When your mother looks away, your father sends you a wink and a thumbs-up.
When your mother turns the discussion to the matter of evidence, you know exactly what to do. Reaching into your dimensionally-expanded pocket, you bring out the tapes of the World Tournament.
Your parents blink and trade glances.
"Sleight of hand?" your dad offers weakly.
"I think we would have noticed the boxy bulge under his clothes, Tony."
"Maybe, maybe not..." Your dad sighs and turns to you. "I take it that pulling those tapes out of thin air was magic?"
"Yeah, but I really did have them in my pocket, Dad. It's just that I know how to make my pocket a whole lot bigger than usual."
"I can see how that'd be useful," your father admits. "So, what's on the tapes?"
"The Finals of the Twenty-First World Martial Arts Tournament, all divisions," you reply. "Lu-sensei was able to pick up a copy for me after we came back home."
"And this your evidence of the supernatural?" your mother asks.
"This is part of it, yes." Turning about, you switch on the TV and VCR, pop in the first tape, wait a moment to make sure everything's running, and then hit pause and turn to face your family. "Okay, so, leaving aside the prelims and the ceremonial bits, the actual tournament lasted about three days, not counting interruptions, so I'm only planning to show you the Under Tens Division, at least tonight. We should be able to get the whole thing in before bedtime. I've already watched the tapes myself, and I'll say up-front that they're both complete, accurate, and un-edited - so all the strange stuff you're going to see? Actually happened." And with that, you hit PLAY and step aside.
"Alex?" your father asks. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to go make some popcorn, Dad. Does anybody want something to drink, while I'm up?"
"Hey!" Zelda cuts in. "That kid hath a green fathce!"
"Yeah," you reply, thinking of Gorn, "he did."
Your parents stare at the screen, which is showing the opening line-up of fighters.
"...I think you'd better get me a beer, Alex," your father sighs.
"Tony," your mother scolds.
"And that girl hath red eyeth! But thhe'th thtill really pretty," Zelda adds.
"Well, it's not like I'm not going to need it, is it?" your father says.
"...well, no... but still."
You fetch a can from the six-pack that's been sitting in the fridge, being steadily depleted over the last couple of weeks, and convey it, unopened, to your father. The tape is covering the opening ceremonies, so you've got plenty of time for the popcorn.
When you return to the living room about three minutes later, you have a large bowl of hot, buttery goodness in one hand, a tall glass of cold grape juice in the other, and a couple of paper towels wedged between your fingers so that the popcorn can be shared by one and all without getting grease all over the upholstery. Since the couch really isn't meant for four people, you grab your father's usual chair instead. As you sit down, you can already see a dozen unspoken questions in your parents' expressions, and you know that number will only increase as the tape plays.
Oh, what the heck. Part of you has been hoping to share the experience of the tournament with your family pretty much since you stepped into the ring for the opening ceremonies. In fact, where's the remote? You look around and find it conveniently nearby, on the little right-side table by your Dad's chair. Snatching up the remote, you turn it right-way-'round and hit pause.
"Any questions before we proceed?"
Your parents don't seem to know where to begin. Zelda has no such hesitation.
"Did you have to fight all of them?" she asks in awe.
You shake your head. "I only had five matches, kiddo. Well," you add quickly, seeing her face fall, "five matches in this group. There were four others the day before." With surprise ninja encounters and random monster attacks sprinkled throughout, you do not say aloud.
"Are we going to thee thothe?"
You shake your head. "They didn't tape the early fights."
"Awww."
Zelda's disappointed little sister face goes right to that soft, warm, fuzzy place that boys aren't supposed to admit to having.
With an effort, you force down the warm, gooey feeling that your little sister's unhappy face brought to life.
"I'll tell you about the preliminaries some other time, Zelda," you promise, hitting Play on the remote. "Right now, we have a low-budget kung fu movie to watch."
Zelda regards you with puzzlement, clearly not getting the joke. Well, that's fine; she's only a few months past her second birthday, after all, and even if she is already speaking intelligibly, she just doesn't have the life experience to properly appreciate some things.
The replay of the first couple matches pass without incident. You quickly decide that the easiest way to provide commentary on the fights is to translate the words of the Announcer, whose unforgettable voice has been conveniently - and expertly - subtitled, but whose remarks lose a bit of their fire in the localized translation. It takes you a minute to get in the right frame of mind to translate from Japanese to English while retaining the Announcer's particular flair, but you think you get it.
Gained Acting C
Your father does not appear impressed by the fight between Kurokami Medaka and the pretty-boy Nathan Jones, and as you are reminded of the latter's apparent masochistic tendencies, you find that you can hardly blame your old man; you were sort of repressing the memory of this bout yourself. The straightforward exchange of punches and kicks between Mitsurugi Heishiro and Hitoyoshi Zenkichi goes over better, but then comes Altria's match with Berserker. The British girl's aura is fully visible even on the playback, and seeing a tiny blonde rocket around the ring on jets of golden energy as she systematically disassembles an opponent three times her size is a definite eye-opener for your parents.
"Thhe ith tho COOL!" Zelda exclaims with glee.
"Is she allowed to use magic in the ring?" your Dad asks, sounding both annoyed and disbelieving.
"She is, but that's not exactly magic, Dad," you reply, before providing a brief explanation of ki. The deeper issue of Altria's dragon spirit you leave alone for now; it would take too long, and it's not really pertinent to the matter at hand.
The following bout between Sabin Figaro and his training partner Vargas Harcourt is downright normal in comparision, despite the speed and skill on display. Ayane's match with Kagekaze Tenma starts out normal, but takes a sharp left turn into Weirdsville when the young tengu executes a Body Flicker and a Transformation - which earns a squeak from Zelda - in rapid succession. Kasumi's match against Cordelia is similar, although you take note that neither girl was able to generate a ki aura strong enough to appear on camera.
"Aw, Cordy lotht," Zelda pouts.
"She actually did really well there," you reply. "She's only been training for a couple of years, but I met Kasumi's family later, and martial arts seems like a tradition for them."
"But... thhe lotht," Zelda repeats.
"She drew even against somebody who should have beaten her," your Dad says. "It's almost like if Smiling Sam beat the Masked Marauder."
"Ohhh..."
Then comes your match with William Marsh. It, too, seems perfectly normal despite your use of ki enhancement throughout, but when your recorded image psykes out Marsh with a faked charge and pops him in the kisser with a point-blank ki blast, you see your family give a collective start of surprise.
The match between the Brachen demon Connor Hanrahan and the dark-skinned, white-haired, red-eyed Amae is openly bizarre from the get-go, if only because of the inhuman appearance of both competitors, while Taki's match with Morgiana once again seems perfectly normal, right up to the point where the redhead starts cracking stones in the ring. You get a slight suprise of your own when Krillin and Liu Kang's bout comes up, for while you remember that the black-haired boy spent most of the fight with his hands wreathed in ki, you don't recall the technique being strong enough to show up on camera. It's very slight, but the orange glow is definitely there - though Krillin's fight-ending Kamehameha completely outshines it.
"Isn't Kamehameha a Hawaiian name?" your mother remarks out of nowhere.
"I don't know about that, but in Japanese, it means 'Turtle Destruction Wave.'"
Your parents give you a strange look.
"Yeah," you admit, "I don't really get it, either."
Tatsuki's match with Miss Lockhart appears completely normal, despite what you later learned about the Arisawa lineage, while Gorn's brief fight with the unfortunate Lee is decidedly not. And as that match comes to a close, you pause the tape.
"So, that's the first round. Any questions so far?"
Once again, Zelda beats your folks to the punch. "Can I learn how to do thtuff like that?!"
There is no missing or mistaking the alarmed expressions that your little sister's eager question inspires on your parents' faces.
"It's a lot of hard work, Zelda," you say carefully, "and really, it's up to Mom and Dad."
Zelda immediately turns to your parents. "Can I?"
"I think we need to wait a few years, honey," your mother answers evasively. "I don't remember seeing anyone younger than five or six when I took Alex to sign up with his teacher."
"Aw, no fair..."
"I've got a question, Alex," your father says then. "How long did it take you to learn how to do that" - he gestures vaguely - "glowing fist thing?"
"About a year, at least to pull it off by accident," you admit. "I could do it more or less at will by the time the tournament rolled around."
"Is that... typical?" your father asks, after a moment of searching for the word.
"It's kind of unusual," you reply. "Lu-sensei says it varies from person to person, but most people need several years to a decade to get a grasp on the basics of energy-manipulation."
Now that you're on this particular subject, you consider mentioning Cordelia's similar exceptional proficiency with ki techniques. It would make you seem a bit less extraordinary, and perhaps reassure your folks that you're not, you know, abnormal. On the other hand, do you really want to bring a friend's private matters into this?
"Cordelia can do it, too," you add after a moment's thought. "It doesn't show up on the tape because she can't bring out as much energy as I can yet, but she was using that sort of technique against Kasumi - who was doing the same thing. And some of the kids in Lu-sensei's advanced class can get the glowing thing working."
"So it's just a matter of talent and training, is what you're saying?" your Dad asks.
"Pretty much."
That seems to please and reassure your father. Your mother likewise appears pleased to hear it, although not as much - then again, she's still trying to deal with a disappointed Zelda.
Gained Honest D (Plus)
Gained King of Men D (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Young King D
When no further questions prove to be coming, you hit Play again, beginning the second round.
You didn't watch the Kurokami/Mitsurugi match back when it was actually happening in front of you, and having watched the recording already, you can safely say that you didn't really miss anything. Mitsurugi put up a better and much less disturbing fight than Nathan did, but he's still outclassed by Medaka. That said, you did finally get an answer as to why the fight lasted four minutes, and why both competitors left the ring smiling: Mitsurugi is the sort of guy who enjoys a good fight, and takes lessons for improvement out of both victory and defeat; and Medaka has that demonstrated desire to help people. The insanely-skilled girl figured out her opponent's motivation pretty early on, and went to some lengths to make their match as educational as possible. Mitsurugi appreciated it, as few kids his age - or fighters of any age - really would.
Altria's fight against Vargas doesn't reveal anything that your family hasn't already seen, but the same cannot be said for your match with Amae. Between your opening flash-bang, the brief but clearly-visible distortion of your personal force-field turning a blow, and Amae's levitating you both up out of the ring, there is plenty to see.
"More super kung fu?" your father asks.
"No, that was all magic," you admit, as your recorded self proceeds to dispel the no-longer-guided magic keeping Amae's unconscious body hovering in mid-air. "Except for the punches and grappling and the like."
Morgiana's fight with Krillin provokes some remarks from your family due to the damage the small redhead causes to the ring - although your father starts snickering when he sees Krillin's reaction to losing. You really don't get why he finds it funny that the young monk would be embarrassed about having a girl sitting on him, or why your mother feels it necessary to hit your Dad in the arm, but you're in good company, as Zelda clearly doesn't understand it either.
Tatsuki's ill-fated match with Gorn flies by with almost no comment until the end, at which point the Mohra demon's decision to literally step on his opponent to pin her gets a round of fierce disapproval from your father and sister. It's heartening to hear.
After that comes... the intermission with the Prism Rangers. You did your best to ignore them back in the arena, and when you rewatched the tapes beforehand, you fast-forwarded through this part, but Zelda takes one look at the silly spectacle and is instantly enchanted, leaving you little alternative but to grit your teeth and endure.
Finally, it ends, and the match between Medaka and Altria gets underway.
"Holy shit!" your father bursts out, when the two girls release their auras at full strength.
Your mother doesn't even try to call him on his language, too busy gaping.
"AWETHOME!" Zelda cries.
You're honestly kind of annoyed that your following match with Ayane doesn't draw that kind of commentary. Even when your recorded self brings out the Power Ball, it only merits a murmur.
Then comes the match between Morgiana and Gorn. You didn't see much of this one, either, having been talking with one of the officials at the time, but it's a downright vicious battle, two young superhumans going at each other hammer and tongs and tearing the crap out of the ring in the process.
The recording skips ahead by what you know to be a quarter of an hour, showing yourself and a somewhat less-battered-than-she-was Altria drawing lots to determine the semi-finals, followed by the blonde girl leaving the ring and Gorn stepping into it to face you.
And then you turn into a giant.
"WOW!"
"Alex?" your father says evenly.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"What the hell, boy?"
Evidently you've just hit the old man's weirdness threshold. You were honestly wondering when it was going to happen.
You hit Pause.
"Okay, there are a couple different things going on here," you begin. "The first is that I was casting a spell called 'Enlarge Person,' which does exactly what it says on the tin. The reason I did that is because my opponent had super-strength, and I felt like I needed the extra size, reach, and striking power to even things out."
Your father regards you silently for a moment, and then nods. "That makes as much sense as any of the rest of this does. So what else was happening?"
"The pyrotechnics aren't a normal part of the spell," you admit. "But effects like that DO appear in TV shows about characters like the Prism Rangers, whenever the boss villain turns the monster of the week into a giant that the heroes need to bring out their combining super robots to fight."
Your father has no words for this. Evidently they didn't have anything quite like Prism Rangers on television when he was a kid.
"Since the Prism Rangers were still fairly fresh in my memory," you continue, "when I went to cast the spell to make myself bigger, I kind of re-enacted one of those monster power-up scenes - partly to help myself focus, and partly because magic is more effective if it's following an established pattern of some kind, even if the pattern itself isn't magical."
"So when you tried to recreate a scene from a TV show, that's what you got?" your mother guesses.
"Pretty much," you reply.
Your parents exchange glances. Then your mom says, "No more acting like people you see on television, Alex."
"Not even if I can get away with it?"
"Not even then," your mother replies firmly. "Because even if you can do something, other people who may be watching can't."
You catch the way her gaze cuts to Zelda.
Ah. Yeah, that's a very good point. Still...
"Would you accept my promise not to do anything I've seen on television until we've had a chance to sit down and talk about how my magic works, so you can make an informed decision?"
Your mother considers that, and slowly nods, seeming much less reluctant than when she agreed to let you try to keep taking Moblin to school. "That's reasonable. Alright, then, Alex."
"Should be an interesting talk," your father adds, taking a drink from his beer. "In the meantime, I think we have one more fight to watch."
You do at that, and so you hit Play one more time.
It is a mercy that the vision you had when your fist crossed Altria's does not appear on the camera - but a small one, considering the blazing, sun-like intensity of your respective auras and the sheer level of physical violence the two of you are throwing at one another. The brief, brilliant battle looks even more impressive from the outside than it did when Altria was right in your face, and the final clash of aura-charged fists is made even more spectacular by the brief appearance of your respective Totems. Even as a ghostly nimbus of radiant life-force, Altria's Dragon is an awesome sight, and your own Beast is no less formidable - though speaking as one who's met the Beast face-to-bristly face, wrestled with it, and been crushed into the idea of the ground by it, you have to admit that you kind of prefer this faded-out spectral form to the real thing.
And then there's your mutual collapse and struggle to rise, followed by the simultaneous recovery, the dirty looks, and the sudden, unexpected outburst of hilarity.
"Punch drunk?" your Dad guesses.
"Maybe a little," you respond. "But it was more like I was tired enough that everything just seemed funny."
Finally, there comes the anticlimactic exchange of punches which wins you your title. You wait for the Announcer to raise your recorded self's arm in triumph, and then hit Stop.
"So, that's what my Division in the Tournament looked like," you tell your folks. Glancing at the clock, you see that it's still a good twenty minutes shy of eight o'clock, which is Zelda's usual bedtime. You're not due for another hour, hour-and-a-half.
What do you do now?
"Any questions?" you ask.
"Tons," your father replies. "I think most of them go back to the big one, though."
"'The big one?'" you echo with a mild frown.
"Where is all this magic and stuff coming from, Alex?" Tony sighs and rubs at his eyes, looking older and a bit lost. "Leaving aside your Mom's Granny Kate and her unusual taste in pets-"
"Thank you, dear," your mother says.
"-you're welcome, hon. Like I was saying, that aside, as far as I know, everybody on both sides of the family going back to the founding of Sunnydale is about as no- non-magical as it gets."
You have the feeling your father was going to say "normal" there, before he caught himself. You appreciate the effort to spare your tender sensibilities, even if your more mature mindset can deal with the fact that you really aren't normal. If nothing else, it'll help Zelda.
"Harrises, Davids, Lavelles, Hanrahans, Alberts, Baineses." Your father recites what you assume are surnames for the various families whose daughters have married into the Harris line. "Our family tree's full of working-class Average Joes from all over the country, and I've never even heard it suggested that one of the family branches had a, an actual wizard hanging off it. Heck, most of us don't even read horoscopes!"
"Basically, why me?" you sum up.
"Exactly," your father concludes.
Taking into account your meeting with your reflected, mundane self in Navi's Silent Realm, it would be easy - and correct - to attribute your magical prowess and a good portion of the supernatural weirdness in your life to date to Ganondorf.
The rest, naturally, you'd blame on the Hellmouth.
However, you still don't know how the soul of the King of Evil managed to slip out of the vicious cycle of reincarnation it was trapped within in Hyrule and make its way to Earth, nor why out of the thousands of human souls in Sunnydale - and the billions on the planet - yours was the one that drew the booby prize and ended up with the essence of the Incarnation of Hatred attached to it.
And so, you shake your head and hold up your hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't know why me, Dad. My being able to use magic could be up to fate or karma, it could be the act of a bored god, or it could just be blind luck. It's not impossible that other people in our family before me have had the talent, and just never got the opportunity to learn how to use it - and it does take a fair amount of learning to do the stuff you saw on that tape."
Your parents frown. "You don't need books of magic or, well, eye of newt or anything like that?" your mother asks.
"Not really, no. I mean, if you know the recipes, yeah, you can brew potions and use special materials to make casting spells easier or more effective, and if you don't have access to a teacher, books of magic can be an acceptable substitute. But they're not really necessary."
"But if you don't have the books," your father says, "then does that mean you do have a teacher?"
"Yeah. Moblin found a fairy out back one day, and she agreed to hang around and give me some pointers."
Your parents stare.
"Fairies again?" your dad mutters. "Seriously?"
"Hey," Zelda protests, poking your father in the arm. "Don't be mean to Briar, Daddy. Thhe'th nithe."
"Zelda, have you met Alex's... er, teacher?" your mother asks.
"Of courthe I have," your sister replies. "Thhe liveth with uth!"
"...she does? Is she in the house right now?"
Zelda gives your parents blank looks. "Thhe'th right there." And she points at your shoulder, where Briar has been sitting calmly, watching this entire spectacle. You feel her shift slightly, and a glance out of the corner of your eye shows that she's waving.
"Zelda," your father says, "that's your brother."
Zelda sighs. "Thhe'th thitting on hith thhoulder, Daddy."
Your parents look at your shoulder.
"The OTHER thhoulder," Zelda says, sounding frustrated with the sillyness of adults.
Briar snickers.
You decide to take pity on your folks, and explain that fairies are invisible to most people, apart from young children and those who are both magically-talented and "young at heart."
They don't appear entirely convinced.
Thinking quickly, you figure that you could modify the standard Spell To See Invisibility so that you could cast it "under the radar" on one of your parents, though this would come at a serious cost in terms of duration. At your current level of ability, you can keep a single casting of the basic spell going for close to two hours, but the cut-down form you have in mind would last just a little over a minute at most. It also occurs to you that while you cast the spell on one of your folks, Briar could easily cast it on the other, while also keeping it concealed.
You're just about to do that, in fact, when you realize that your parents' reactions thus far, while generally positive, haven't indicated anything like the casual acceptance of magic that you personally display. They might not react well to having spells cast on them, and almost certainly wouldn't appreciate it being done without their consent.
So you decide to ask.
"Mom, Dad? If you're interested, I can cast a spell that will make Briar temporarily visible. I'd have to cast it on you, though."
You're a bit dismayed, but not terribly surprised, when your parents visibly flinch at the suggestion.
"Uh, thanks for the offer, Alex," your Dad replies, "but if it's all the same to you... I think I've had enough perception-altering for one night." He shakes his empty beer can for emphasis.
"Likewise, dear," your mother chimes in.
Zelda frowns. "But Mommy, you haven't had anything to drink."
"Not yet."
You nod and let the idea go. "Okay, then. Briar? Is there something you can think of that would prove you're real, and not just something Zelda and me are dreaming up? Or that I'm creating magically?" you add.
"Hmmm. Oh!" Briar smacks her fist into her palm. "Idea!"
She quickly explains her notion to you, and you, in turn, pass it along to the folks.
"Alright, quick lesson in magic: casting spells requires a lot of concentration. Additionally, while there are some spells that are basically self-guiding, others need your constant attention to work properly. And if you're busy focusing on a spell like that, you can't spare the effort to cast another one. With me so far?"
There is a three-part nod.
"Good. So, what Briar's suggested is that I should cast one of those concentration-intensive spells, for example, levitating the remote control here, and while I'm doing that, she'll cast a spell of her own. And she's not going to tell me what it is, right, Zelda?"
"Right!"
"Is that okay with you, Mom, Dad?"
After a momentary hesitation, your father nods. "I think I can deal with one more surprise tonight. Sure."
Your mother just nods, and you set to casting. The cantrip of Mage Hand is more than equal to the task of making the TV remote drift around the room in accordance with the movement of your index finger, and after a few low-speed passes to let the effect sink in, you hear Briar murmuring. Even with her sitting on your shoulder, you barely feel the ripple of expanding mana as her spell takes effect.
Then Zelda giggles.
"Alright, Briar," you sigh, while still moving the remote about. "What did you do to me?"
"Look down."
You do, and find that your shirt has gone from plain, respectable red to hot pink.
"Cute."
"Is that permanent?" your mother asks.
"No, if Briar used the spell I'm thinking of, it'll last about an hour or so, then fade back to normal. At least, it had better," you mock-growl, with a look at your shoulder.
Briar smiles innocently.
You sigh.
You fight down a momentary impulse to respond to Briar's little prank in kind, mainly because turning her pink just wouldn't have the same impact when she's invisible to half the people in the room. Not to mention that pink is her natural color to begin with, at least in terms of aura, so it likely wouldn't even register against the perpetual glow.
Pranking urges aside, you find that you can't think of anything supernaturally-related that requires your parents' immediate attention. You weren't planning to talk to them about Kahlua's birthday invitation until tomorrow, Ambrose's message doesn't need to be answered for a while, and a more in-depth discussion of things like magic, mystical kung fu, demons, the Hellmouth, and so on can all stand to wait.
That decided, you open up the field for questions - and your father has one right off the bat.
"How long has your kung fu teacher known about the magic, Alex?"
Ah. You were wondering when Lu-sensei was going to enter this discussion. And by your mother's expression, it's a question that she'd appreciate an answer to as well.
"If you mean my magic, I told Lu-sensei about it when we first stopped in Hawaii."
Your father frowns, while your mother looks a touch distressed.
"I'm not sure how long he's personally known about the Supernatural," you go on, "but I actually talked with him about what the best way to tell you guys this stuff might be last weekend-"
That admission seems to surprise them.
"-and it sounded like he's known for most of his life."
And just like that, your Dad's frowning again. "I see."
You get the feeling that you may have gotten Lu-sensei in trouble with your folks. Or just hurt them a bit, by making it sound like you trusted your teacher more than you do your parents.
"The thing is, Dad," you say, "Lu-sensei already knew I had a spirit of some kind hanging around me - he can't see Briar directly, but he has that funky Zen Master Jedi ability to sense things around himself - so he would have had a talk with me about the magic and supernatural thing sooner or later. Probably a lot sooner, considering how the tournament went."
Your father grunts in acknowledgement.
"The reason it came out then was because I ran off to help Briar out with an unfriendly octopus, and Lu-sensei caught me at it." You pause, and feel compelled to add, "It didn't exactly help me that the octopus had an owner who came around to complain about how I treated it."
Your father blinks at that addition, which makes your mother sigh.
"Alex, have you been picking on other people's pets?"
You face your mother squarely.
"Mom, if I saw a dog menacing one of my human-sized friends, I'd help them out. And Briar's a lot smaller than we are."
Gained Protective D (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
You are careful to leave out that Arrogante was also much, much bigger than a dog, to say nothing of it being electrified and somewhat intelligent. No need to freak your folks out even more about supernatural stuff that is behind you, over, and done with. Far better to play up Briar's relative vulnerability to physical threats that a human-sized person wouldn't take much notice of.
Even if doing so does get you a sour look from the fairy in question.
As it happens, your answer leaves your mother visibly conflicted - one part proud, one part concerned. Meanwhile, your Dad briefly smirks.
"Can't really argue with the boy helping out someone smaller than him, can we, Jess?"
"I suppose not," your mother replies, still not sounding entirely convinced.
You consider telling her that this was the only time that you threatened somebody else's pet - even if including Arrogante under that term is seriously stretching the definition - but then you recall that, while you didn't harm the sorcerer's monkey familiar when it tried to make off with Briar, you DID catch the furry little pest in the blast of the sonic spells you threw at its master. So that claim would be false.
"But speaking of people smaller than you, Alex," your mother says then. "Obviously, Cordelia knows about... all of this. What about the rest of your friends? Do they know, too?"
"Amy and Larry know," you admit. "That's mainly because Amy could see Briar all the way back in preschool, and Cordy and Larry could hear her, sometimes. They've gotten better at picking up on her since then, though."
Your folks don't appear to have expected that.
"Can everybody your age see Briar?" your mother asks, honestly curious.
You shake your head. "When I was in Pre-K, Briar drifted around the group to see who else could see or hear her; Amy, Cordelia, and Larry were the only ones that she got a reaction out of. She's done the same thing at the start of each school year, or when a new kid's transfered into my class, but so far nobody new has been able to see her, either. We haven't really tried looking into the other classes."
"Is that normal?"
"For the modern world, yeah, at least according to Briar." You decide not to get into the details of other worlds at this juncture. "Having magical potential helps, but if kids aren't at least a little bit open to the existence of fairies, they can't see them."
"That seems very sad, somehow," your mother sighs.
"She's not wrong," Briar notes.
You're not sure what to say to that.
It may be fortunate, then, that Zelda chooses this moment to yawn.
"On that note," you say, "I think it may be time for bed."
"M'not tired," Zelda immediately protests, despite the fact that she's rubbing her eyes.
Ignoring her, you set your depleted bowl of popcorn aside on the nearest table, get up from your Dad's chair, and head over to the couch. Standing before your stubborn-faced little sister, you hold out your arms.
"Come on, squirt," you say. "It's getting late, and we should give Mom and Dad some time to talk by themselves."
"Don't wanna."
"I'll ask Briar to tell you a bedtime story."
"...promithe?"
"What do you say, Briar?"
"That's fine by me."
FWOOMP!
And just like that, you have a little sister-class limpet attached to your chest.
"I'll just... uh... take her upstairs," you tell your folks, while trying to balance Zelda's weight. Big as you are for your age, you aren't so large that you can just ignore the weight of a healthy two-year-old, especially when she leaps on you like that.
As it happens, your mother follows you upstairs to handle the extended business of tucking in - which is just as well, as far as you're concerned, because apparent child prodigy or not, Zelda IS still in diapers, and you prefer to avoid THAT aspect of older siblinghood and familial responsibility whenever possible.
While your mother is helping your sister get ready for bed, you duck into your own room and start changing your clothes for the pajama pants and loose, light shirt that serve as your sleepwear. As you pull off your old shirt, you take a moment to consider whether you should truly call it a night, or if there's anything else you could - or should - do.
As nothing critical comes to mind, you go through the rest of your normal nightly routine. Use the bathroom, brush your teeth, give Zelda a good-night hug... and then do likewise for your Mom.
At this step, you pause. "Are you holding up okay, Mom? I know just dropped a lot of stuff on you..."
"I won't lie to you, Alex," your mother says. "I'm still trying to make sense of everything you've said and showed us. It's... not easy." Then she hugs you. "But you're still my little boy. Nothing will ever change that."
You return the hug, feeling a bit better than before, even as you are secretly glad that this is happening out in the hall, where Zelda and Briar can't see it.
Whatever else happens that night, it's not loud or significant enough to disturb your sleep.
You wake up the next day around seven, and find that Briar is in her little bed over on your bedside table, still snoozing. Leaving her be for the time being, you rub the sleep from your eyes and head downstairs to see about breakfast.
In the kitchen, you find your Dad still in his housecoat and slippers. He's normally already dressed for work by this time, so you immediately suspect that last night's revelations have led to a change of plans.
"Good morning, Alex," your mother greets you, while your father makes a noise of acknowledgement in the midst of taking a drink of coffee.
"Morning Mom, Dad." You pause, then add, "Taking a day off, Dad?"
"Yeah," your father agrees, setting his mug on the table. "We've got a lot left to talk about."
You nod at the truth of this statement, and wonder where to start.
Also, what topic do you want to lead off with?
"We do," you admit. "But would it be okay with you if we waited until after breakfast to talk? Just to make sure we're all awake."
Your folks exchange a glance. Your father shrugs, before taking another drink of his coffee, leaving your mother to reply.
"That sounds fine, dear. Now then, what would you like for breakfast?"
"Do you mind if I help, Mom?"
"That would be lovely, Alex."
"Do you mind if I use magic to help?"
Your mother pauses. "In what way?"
"Is there a spell that makes food or something?" your Dad asks, with a joking tone.
"Well, actually, there is-"
"The hell you say."
"Tony!"
"-but I was thinking of something a bit simpler. There's a spell called 'Unseen Servant,' and it's kind of like creating the well-behaved cousin of a poltergeist. Instead of throwing things around, it does simple tasks you tell it to, like cleaning the floors, setting the table, doing the dishes..." You trail off in thought. "It might be able to cook, but probably not anything more complicated than toast or microwaveable meals."
Your parents are silent for a moment.
"I gotta see this," your father mutters.
"Alright, Alex," your mother says slowly. "You can set the table, get the juice and milk, and start making toast. With magic," she adds, sounding as if she can hardly believe the words coming out of her own mouth.
Permission received, if not precisely enthusiastically, you proceed to cast your spell, being careful to keep the mana contained. There is no visible product of the spell, of course, but you can sense the servant hovering to your right.
"Fetch three plates from that cupboard," you say, pointing, "and put them on the table. Then get three tall glasses from that cupboard" - you point to a different one - "and put them on the table. Then get three small spoons, three forks, and three knives from that drawer, and put them on the table. Then set three places at the table, in front of the three wooden chairs - plate, glass, and one of each piece of silverware. Then wait."
The servant moves off, and a moment later, the first cupboard opens. Three plates float out together and hover across the kitchen to land on the table with a light clink. Then, as ordered, the servant fetches glasses.
While your parents watch this silently, you get the milk, a half-full jug of orange juice, and a box of apple juice from the fridge. About the point where the servant is getting the silverware out, your mother recovers from her... bewilderment? Amazement? Shock, even? Whatever the case, she gets over it and sets about preparing the main course.
Wanting to make the best impression on your parents with regards to the reliability, usefulness, and safety of magic, you keep your attention fixed on your own tasks. As the Unseen Servant finishes setting the three places at the table, you're filling the toaster with bread and trying to remember how cooked your folks prefer their toast. Your mother prefers it fairly soft, as you recall, while your Dad likes his crispy...
You're still waiting for the two-slot toaster to finish its first round of white bread slices when you sense your Servant hovering up behind and to one side of you, its assigned tasks complete. You take a moment to study the kitchen table, nod in satisfaction, and issue a similarly-detailed list of instructions for setting Zelda's place - being the smallest non-fairy member of the family, she uses a different set of dishes, cups, and cutlery, most of them plastic and all of them lacking sharp points or edges.
Following that and the beginning of a second batch of toast, you have the Servant fetch the peanut butter and the grape jelly, then the salt, pepper, and ketchup. All of this proceeds without incident, while you keep the toast coming, using the time in between loading and retrieving of slices to butter the finished pieces.
While that's going on, your mother has gotten a good start on the bacon and eggs. Noting that you've finished all your assigned tasks, you decide to have your Servant fetch some cereal bowls, and then the boxed brands you and your folks prefer.
Gained Concentration B
"I notice you had to tell it that we all like different cereal," your father notes, as his bowl of Shreddies and a small plate of dark-but-not-burned toast drift down in front of him.
"Yeah," you answer, taking your place to his left and digging in to your own Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs. "Just because I made the thing doesn't mean it knows what I know. I'm sure I could come up with a stronger version of the spell that would work that way, but this is the bare-bones version; it just knows how to do simple tasks and follow orders. Did I get the toast right?"
Your father pauses to take a bite, chews thoughtfully, and swallows. "Not bad. Not perfect, but toast is kind of hit-or-miss that way."
Gained Cooking F (Plus)
You're partway through your toast and cereal when your mother has the first batch of bacon and eggs ready. Just as she's setting it down on the table, you hear movement from upstairs.
"I've got her," you say, setting down your spoon and pushing back your chair.
"Thank you, Alex," your mother says with a smile, before turning back to the cooking.
Leaving the kitchen and taking the stairs at an easy pace, you are just a few steps along the upstairs hall when Zelda emerges from her room, yawning and knuckling one eye.
"Goo'mo'nin, Alexth," she mumbles in your direction.
"Good morning, Zelda. We're having bacon, eggs, cereal, and toast for breakfast. Do you want to walk downstairs, or-"
You break off as Zelda wordlessly holds up her arms. When you obediently pick her up, she curls against your shoulder with another yawn.
Gained Strength E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
"Hey." You poke her in the side. "Fall asleep, and I put you back to bed."
"Bacon firtht."
Truly, a little girl after your own heart.
"Okay. Just give me a second to check on Briar."
"'kay."
You glance in your room, and see Briar's sleep-muted glow still in her bed. You wonder whether you should leave her to her rest, or if it might be worthwhile to risk fairy displeasure by waking her up to eat with the rest of the household.
You decide to let Briar have a lie-in. The smell of fresh-cooked food will probably drag her out of bed sooner rather than later anyway, and it's not like you need a caretaker twenty-four/seven - why does that argument feel so weak...?
In any event, if something significant happens in the meantime, you can always catch her up after the fact.
As it happens, Zelda does not fall asleep on the way downstairs; while clearly groggy, she greets the folks with a smile as you sit her in her chair.
Breakfast is tasty, if otherwise uneventful. Briar fails to make an appearance - was telling Zelda a bedtime story THAT tiring? Or was it the emotional shock of the three messengers showing up that's left your fairy companion tuckered out? It's a bit unusual for Briar to sleep past sunrise, but it has happened often enough before now that you're not, you know, WORRIED or anything.
About an hour later, and following a dish-cleaning final performance from your Unseen Servant before you dismiss it, you and your family are once again sitting in the living room to talk of affairs. Even Moblin roused himself and had a few bites, before re-assuming his place on the rug.
"Are we gonna watcth more of the tapeth?" Zelda asks eagerly, and much less sleepily now.
"Maybe later, Zelda," you answer.
"Aw, poo."
"Instead, I was thinking we could talk about magic-"
"REALLY?!"
"Yes, really." You glance at your parents, who don't seem as eager as Zelda on the subject.
You proceed to talk about magic with your family. You start with the universal basics of mana and its manipulation, before getting into the more specific methods of your style - if not in sufficient detail for the process to be re-created. You try to make it all sound normal-ish, a skill (or more accurately, a set of skills) that can be learned like any other, but between Zelda's enthusiasm on the topic and your own firsthand experience of the amazing things one can do with a well-crafted weave of mana, that doesn't last long.
Your little sister was totally right to be excited.
Magic. Is. AWESOME.
The tone of the conversation shifts noticeably when you start using simple cantrips to provide special effects to support and emphasize your words. Prestidigitation, Trifling Image, and a little creativity go a long way towards giving the appearance of "real" magic at work, and really help to impress what you're saying into memory.
While she probably doesn't grasp the concepts you allude to, Zelda nonetheless pays rapt attention to every syllable, as do your parents. They seem reassured that you aren't calling on gods or selling your soul to demons for your abilities, although the roundabout confirmation that there is more truth than fiction to those stereotypes obviously unsettles them.
Gained Teaching E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
After that, you talk about the feats of magic you performed in the Under Tens Division Finals, as well as those your opponents (mostly Amae and Altria) worked in their turn, and how you'd go about creating such effects yourself. This soon leads into a back-and-forth with your Dad, who takes to firing out ideas that you break down into potentially-workable spells, or sets of spells.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it doesn't take the old man long to get onto the topic of auto-repair. He's mildly impressed by your description of the Spell of Mending, the mechanic in him easily able to see the practical applications for magic that restores broken tools or fiddly little car parts to good working order. Oh, given the built-in limitations of the spell, there are plenty of tasks it would be faster or just plain necessary to do by hand, but behind the scenes, the spell could provide some serious savings in maintenance and supply costs.
You wonder if you should tell your father about the Spell to Make Whole, and how - provided you had all the parts and a reasonable grasp of what they were supposed to do and look like - you could turn a rusted-out junker back into an actual car in roughly the same ten-minute span that the lesser spell would need to fix, say, a sparkplug.
Tony stares at you. "You know a spell that can restore cars."
"I know a spell that could restore one car at a time," you clarify. "There are limits, though. I'd need to have all the parts present in some form, for one, and for another, the Spell to Make Whole wasn't really designed to work on technology as complicated as you'd find in a typical car. There'd be a lot of blanks I'd have to fill in from my own knowledge: what each part is supposed to look like when it's in working order; where they all go; and what each of them does. Otherwise I might end up miswiring something or having some critical screws left over when I was 'done.'"
"...but if you knew all of that, you could restore a car," your father says, with just a hint of inquiry.
"Yeah."
There is a moment of silence.
And then, your father giggles.
It's... unexpected. And also a little disturbing.
"I know that sound," your mother sighs. "Tony, whatever you're scheming, no."
"But, hon-"
"I haven't forgotten the Coolmobile, Tony."
"Hey, I was sixteen-"
"Or the First Annual Sunnydale Memorial Cup."
"That was Rory's idea-"
"OR the Italian."
Your father pauses. "Okay, THAT one was a bad call. But how was I supposed to know the guy ran a chop-shop? Seriously, who does that sort of thing in Sunnydale?"
Your mother's expression is implacable. Your father sighs.
"Alright, alright. No cool plans or get-rich-quick schemes." He holds up one hand, solemnly. "I promise."
"He's crossing his fingers behind his back," Briar notes with dry amusement from the hall. You glance quickly at the fairy, who drifted downstairs while you and your Dad were talking, and has been hovering there, watching the byplay.
You are honestly torn.
Part of you wants to back up your old man. You've seen through your friendship with Cordelia how useful having lots of money can be, and you've run into a couple of situations where not having a certain level of money shut down options you would have liked to at least be able to consider. Plus, you know that magic, like any other field of study, is easier to pursue when you've got proper funding. Magic items are NOT cheap, and some spells - some of them literal life-savers - cannot even be cast without expensive focusing agents or catalytic compounds. And all of this is saying nothing about the long overtime hours your Dad has had to put in lately to cover the various costs incurred at the end of your trip to Japan.
At the same time, the names that your mother just listed off and your Dad's own admission make it sound like he and Uncle Rory have something of a history of concocting the sort of zany schemes normally found in comic books and Saturday morning cartoons. Curious as you are about the details behind the interestingly-named "Coolmobile" and the "Sunnydale Memorial Cup," you're reluctant to mix magic with the kind of off-the-cuff unplanned outbursts of enthusiasm you've seen in high school comedies. What runs to silliness and works out for the best on the screen is far more likely to end in tears in real life, even before getting sorcery involved.
At that point, it's pretty much guaranteed to end in fire.
Ultimately, however, you have to come down on your father's side. Money is simply too useful an asset to do without, whether for your family life or your magical studies. You'll just have to be careful about how you go about making it.
"I promise too, Mom," you say, getting your parents' attention. "Like Dad said, no cool plans or get-rich-quick schemes."
"And there you go, Jess," your father says. "When has our boy ever gone back on his word to us?"
Your mother regards the two of you with deep suspicion. Finally, she sighs and nods.
"Alright. But I will be watching you two. Understood?"
"Sure, hon."
"Yes, Mom."
When your mother's back is turned to him, your Dad winks at you - and opens his eye just in time to avoid getting caught when his wife turns back to him suddenly, her own gaze narrowed.
'We'll talk later,' you silently mouth at your father, before schooling your expression to innocence as your mother turns around again.
He gives you a quick thumbs-up.
Briar snickers.
Zelda giggles.
Your mother looks like she wishes she had eyes in the back of her head, so she could glare at you and your father at the same time.
You feel this is probably a good time to change the subject.
Given how it's (somehow) led to your Mom suspecting you and your Dad of plotting money-making schemes, you'd kind of like to move the discussion away from magic for a while. At the same time, out of consideration for your parents and their sensibilities - which must be taking a beating with all these revelations about the strange and unusual world you live in, no matter HOW well they appear to be taking it - you don't really want to venture too deep into matters supernatural. That leaves out talking about vampires, demons, Ye Forces of Darknesse, and the Hellmouth, as well as your invitation to Kahlua's birthday.
Almost by default, that makes talking about the martial arts your best and only option. And if you're going to do that, you'd really like to get Lu-sensei in on this. He knows more about that aspect of the world than you do, and can answer questions your parents might have that you, at best, would fumble to find a proper reply for. He'd also be able to talk to your folks as one adult to others, which might help them deal with everything a bit better than just hearing it all from their underage son. Plus it would be nice to have somebody else do the talking, if only for a little while.
You check the VCR clock. It's coming up on half-past nine, so Lu-sensei should be wide awake and able to receive a phonecall. The question is, what do you say to him?
"Hey, Mom?"
"Yes, Alex?"
"Were we planning anything for lunch?"
Your mother frowns. "Not particularly. Why?"
"Hungry already?" your Dad asks.
"I was just thinking that, since we're talking about magic and mysticism and all the rest of it, it might not be a bad idea to invite Lu-sensei over. I mean, he knows more about most of this stuff than I do, and, uh, I kind of got the feeling that you and Dad wanted to talk to him about it."
Your parents trade looks. "You're not wrong," your father admits.
"This would be awfully sudden, though, Alex," your mother adds. "I know it's important, but are you sure Mr. Tse could make it on such short notice?"
You're tempted to mention Lu-sensei's interesting relationship with time and space, but decide to leave it alone for now. "Only way to find out is to call and ask him."
So you do, heading out to the kitchen, picking up the phone, and dialling.
The phone rings once, twice, thr-
"Lu School of Five Elements Kung Fu, Lu Tse speaking. How may I help you?"
"Hi, Sensei," you say. "It's Alex."
"Good morning, lad. What's wrong?"
You scowl. "I like the way you automatically assume I'm calling because I have a problem, sir."
"Are you saying you don't?"
"...well, no, but do you have to come right out and say it?"
"Yes, I do," the old man says without hesitation. "So, what's the matter?"
You take a deep breath. "I was calling to see if you had plans around lunchtime, sir."
"...nnnnoooo," he says slowly. "I don't. And the way the back of my neck has started to tingle tells me that I really should have made some, before it was too late."
Smart ass. "Anyway," you hurry along, "if you're free, I've talked to my folks, and they'd both like to meet with you. And talk."
"About what?"
You sigh. "My Dad sort of walked in on me having a chat with an imp in the backyard yesterday evening."
"...I see."
"And after that, we sat down with Mom - and Zelda - and spent a good part of the night and this morning watching the Under Tens Division tapes and talking about magic and the world of martial arts. Oh, and fairies."
Lu-sensei makes a neutral sound.
"And while it's gone amazingly well so far, I could use somebody for my folks to talk to that wasn't me, you know?"
"...yes, I do." The old master sighs. You get the impression that he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, we had been discussing having the Talk with your family... but Alex, I have to ask."
"Yes, sir?"
"What was a minion of darkness doing in your backyard in the first place, and why were you talking to it?"
"Ah, I'd rather not talk about that over the phone, Sensei," you reply warily.
"That bad, hmmm? Well, alright then. I suppose I shall see you around quarter to twelve."
You glance back into the living room, lower the phone, and raise your voice slightly. "Quarter to twelve?"
Your mother looks up from where she's been dragging Zelda to her feet and towards the stairs, and nods once. Then she goes back to wrangling your sister upstairs to get dressed.
"That sounds good, sir."
"Excellent. And in the meantime... try to stay out of trouble."
"Sensei!"
But he's already hung up. Jerk.
On the plus side, he didn't try to ENLIGHTEN you over the phone. You're not sure if that means Lu-sensei is unable to do such a thing altogether, or if there's just something that prevented him from doing so in this situation. Either way, you and your abused skull are glad for the reprieve.
Now all you have to do is avoid setting Lu-sensei off while he's visiting. Or hope that his sense of propriety will keep him from exercising percussive discipline in front of your parents.
...
You're starting to think that you may have made a mistake inviting the old man over.
Hanging up the phone with a sense of inevitability - and headaches - you check the stove clock. It's now twenty to ten, leaving you a good two hours before Lu-sensei arrives. Aside from changing out of your sleepwear and maybe having a quick shower - Lu-sensei has seen you in far worse, but you know that Mom will insist on putting the best face on things for the guest's sake - what will you do with the intervening time?
Or you could keep talking about Important Stuff with the folks.
You figure you've gone about as far with talking about magic as you currently can without giving more advanced demonstrations, or explaining why you feel said demonstrations would not be a good idea - which leads into the supernatural truth and dangers of the world that you have yet to discuss with the folks. As well as they've handled learning about magic and the mystical side of the martial arts, you can't see a chat about demons going nearly as well. Granted, they did see a collection of non-humans when you played the tournament tapes for them last night, but there's a big difference between "monsters are real, they attend kung fu tournaments, and they can (generally) be trusted to follow the rules," and "monsters are real, they're everywhere, and a lot of them want to eat your face."
Plus, the non-humans from your division were all kids, and like a lot of young creatures, even young predators, they simply don't carry the kind of visible threat that their adult counterparts do.
Well, all except for Gorn. He was just creepy and brutal. And that Berserker guy was pure thug, while William Marsh came across like a pint-sized soccer hooligan, with a side of "lurks under bridges and hates billy goats." Anybody whose first introduction to you was via spectating at the tournament would probably have similar things to say about you. But most of the other kids looked and acted like kids - very strange kids, but not scarily so.
On that note, you're a little wary of playing the next section of the tapes. The competitors get progressively less kiddy and more alarming with each new division.
And so, after a forty-minute detour for a shower and change of clothes - close to half of which involves hurrying up and waiting for your Mom to get Zelda in and out of the tub - you rejoin your folks in the living room and talk kung fu.
You start off with a brief explanation of the different "grades" of practitioner. The bottom rung of that particular ladder is occupied by the hobbyists, the sort who take up the art because they're bored or - in the case of "dojo families" - it's expected of them, but lack any enduring interest in it. Next up are the enthusiasts, those who actively enjoy the martial arts but do not truly fall under the "martial" paradigm, practicing for health or personal enjoyment. Then you get into the actual fighters, who range from the common students to the select disciples to the lofty masters.
Lu-sensei has never come out and said where you rank, but if you had to guess, you'd say you were still a student of the Five Elements School. True, you've been recognized as the best fighter your age in the world, but magic was a big part of that - your pure martial arts skill is a lot less overwhelming. Not to mention that most of your lessons with Lu-sensei are as part of a group; you're given to understand that disciples get most of their training one-on-one, whether from their masters or encounters with various challengers and rivals.
From the loose concept of rankings, you move on to technique. Punches, kicks, grapples, avoiding punches, kicks, and grapples - your mother definitely prefers this side of things - there are enough different ways of dishing it out and taking it to keep a student learning for a lifetime and more, even without getting into the really exotic stuff. Though you do, demonstrating the basic "glowing ball of light between my hands" trick.
Zelda promptly scurries over, pokes the mote, and gigglingly pronounces it warm and fuzzy.
"It'th like Alexth, only tiny."
She's more right than she knows. And also embarrassing - no doubt EXACTLY as much as she means to be.
Gained Hand-to-Hand (Five Elements Style) F (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
"And that" - your father points at the ball - "isn't magic?"
"No, it's not. It's supernatural, but it's not magic."
"...I'm not sure I get the difference," he admits.
You look at the glowing sphere cupped in your fingers. "The easiest way to think of it is that magic breaks the rules. Ki just bends them."
"For example?"
"Well, take this." You gesture with your hands. "Light, heat, energy - not much of any of them, but if I pour more juice into it..."
The ball grows, and becomes brighter.
"Now, magic can do the same thing as this, but magic can also create lights that don't give off any heat."
"I only got a B-minus in physics," your Dad says after a moment, "but I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be impossible."
"Exactly." At least, you saw a movie once that said the same thing. "Ki can do all sorts of stuff that looks just as impossible as magic, but if you break it all down, it's still following the same rules as regular stuff. Mostly." Lu-sensei's ability to move into blue-shifting territory has to be bending the rules REALLY hard, but technically, all he's doing is moving very, VERY fast. Magic would pull off similar feats of (near-)instantaneous movement by straight-up warping space-time. Although Lu-sensei can sort of do that as well...
Speaking of your teacher, you've got another half hour or so before he shows.
Deciding to continue as you began, you start explaining ki and its place in the martial arts. After all, this is another thing that separates ki-users from magic-users: not everyone is born with magic, or even the potential for it; but every living human has ki. The physical energy of the body, the activity and direction of the mind, the latent potency of the spirit - it's that last one, really, that's the tricky part. Everyone can train the body and the mind, but it's only when you learn how to grasp the intangibles of the soul that the really exotic aspects of ki come into reach.
You struggle to find the words to explain, and finally end up quoting Star Wars. The concept of the Force isn't too far off from what ki feels like, although the whole Light Side/Dark Side argument is kind of missing the point. Ki has both elements, and neither is good nor evil; you need both to be a complete person. It's when you start denying parts of yourself that trouble - and dare you say it, evil? - starts creeping in. Then again, that's true even if you never touch ki a moment in your life. Being able to shoot energy bolts and punch through concrete just makes the fallout more noticeable.
Not that you mention that part to your folks, of course.
In the midst of your dissertation on the components of ki, you make an effort to demonstrate what each one looks or feels like. Physical energy is easy enough; you just pick up Zelda and spin her around a bit before returning her giggling self to the couch. Mental energy is trickier, as you've never really attempted to manifest that power externally before, and aren't even clear on what form it should take. Telekinesis would be one of the more spectacular methods, but you honestly can't think of how to pull that off without drawing on magic or ki. Likewise for telepathy. This... pretty much leaves you at a loss.
Gained Mental Control F
Gained Mental Power F
Gained Mental Sense F
"Alex?" your father asks.
"Sorry, I was just trying to see if I could shoot mind bullets or something. It didn't work."
Your parents don't seem to know how to reply to that.
As a finale, you draw on your spiritual energies. This, at least, you know how to do, even if you do have to first call up and then break down your ki to get at the energy of your soul in any meaningful quantity.
Gained Ki Filtration F (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Spiritual Control D (Plus) (Plus)
Everybody on the couch shifts uncomfortably. Even Moblin twitches, despite being fairly used to this sort of display from you. Briar just shrugs it off.
"What was that?" your father asks.
"Sorry, that was me again," you apologize quickly. "That's basically what it feels like when somebody is using spiritual energy, or there's a free-roaming spirit around."
And you're kind of surprised that everybody in the family had that much of a reaction to the energy. True, you were pushing fairly hard, but that's because you were under the impression that the Hellmouth interfered with spiritual phenomenon. Was your information wrong, or is your entire family just naturally sensitive?
"You mean like a ghost," your mother says.
"Thcary," Zelda whispers, golden-brown eyes wide.
"If it makes you feel better, Zelda, I have yet to encounter a ghost in town. Not that I'm going out of my way to meet any," you add quickly, with a nervous glance at your folks, as you try not to think too hard about Poes.
"Good," your parents say in unison.
Then the doorbell goes off.
"I'll get it!"
Springing from your seat, you hurry out to the front door.
"Thanks for coming, Sensei, I could- aaand you're not Sensei," you say intelligently, as the door swings open far enough to reveal the completely unfamiliar person standing on your front doorstep. He's a little taller and broader across the shoulders than average, has a certain cast to his otherwise generically American features that make you think someone not too far back in his family tree came from the Far East, and the way he holds himself says that he knows how to fight and is on his guard - which naturally puts you on guard as well.
"Alexander Harris?" the stranger says carefully.
"Yes?" you answer in precisely the same tone.
"I have a letter for you. If I may?" He gestures to the right breast of his light, loose-fitting jacket, suggesting there's a pocket there.
...another messenger? Seriously? What, is this designated Weird Mail Weekend, or something?
How do you respond?
You keep a firm metaphysical grip on your ki and mana, ready to go to red alert if this messenger pulls something other than a piece of paper out of his coat pocket - and possibly even then, depending on what shape said paper is in, and what he tries to do with it.
Visions of being assailed by a strange origami-wielding martial artist pass through your mind's eye, dispelling only when the stranger draws forth a plain, slightly crinkled white envelope that looks about 4-1/8th by 9-1/2 inches. Moving slowly enough not to appear threatening, but quickly enough not to make it obvious that he's taking his time or just nervous, the man holds out the envelope.
You feel a strong urge not to touch the envelope with your bare hands, and an only slightly less powerful impulse to do all kinds of sensory examinations of it before opening it. However, common sense taps you on the shoulder and - in a voice that sounds a lot like Briar's - asks if you're actually seriously thinking about using magic in plain view of a total stranger.
You weren't. Not really.
But you do take a moment to passively analyze both the stranger and his delivery with your full range of enhanced senses.
From him, you get a faint sense of elevated-but-suppressed ki, like you'd expect from any skilled martial artist trying to pass as normal. No magic, no elevated spiritual presence, and no feel of demonic corruption, not even to the degree you'd find in a typical human resident of the 'Dale. The letter reads as even less supernatural.
Even so, when you reach out to accept the letter, you make a point of sheathing your hand in a protective "glove" of ki, just in case the envelope has been dosed with some kind of contact irritant or poison, rigged to explode, or otherwise made hazardous to handle in some non-mystical way that you can't currently detect. You keep the energy as hidden as you can, and it appears to work, as the ninja mailman doesn't even give your hand a telling not-glance.
Gained Guarded D (Plus)
"Thank you," you say politely.
"You're welcome," he answers with a slight bow. "Good-day."
The man turns and walks away at a pace that eats almost as much distance as you would at a jog. He REALLY wants to leave, and that makes you probe the letter more thoroughly as you close the door, starting with your active sensory scans, and moving up to a Spell to Detect Poison, a Spell to Detect Disease, and one more that you think should detect combustible materials.
They all come back negative except for the last, which basically says, "Paper. Burns readily when exposed to flame."
You're just about to either open the letter or take it out back and do more magical science when there is a knock at the door. Turning back around, you open it, and find Lu-sensei on the doorstep - oh, crap - Enlightenment Stick in hand.
"Alex."
"Sensei."
"So, who's the ninja, and why is he trying to run away without looking like he's running away?"
You hold up the letter for Lu-sensei's consideration. "Does this seem booby-trapped to you, sir?"
Your master blinks, gazes intently at the letter for a moment, and then shakes his head.
"I'm not getting any sense of danger off of it," he replies. "Then again, I'm not all that great at spotting the subtler applications of magic and mysticism. Still, unless you've noticed anything...?" he trails off.
You shake your head. "It looks clean. No indication of poison, disease, or chemical explosives, either."
"...I see. Then I'd say that there's a good chance of it being just a letter."
With your teacher's confirmation backing up your own thoughts on the matter, you let your ki glove disperse and step back in the hall, wordlessly making room for the old man to enter as you open the envelope.
"Alex?" your mother asks, coming out into the hallway. "Who was- oh, hello."
"Ah, yeah. Mom, this is Lu Tze, my teacher. Sensei, this is my Mom."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance at last, Mrs. Harris," Lu-sensei says with a smile and a bow. "Thank you for having me over on this fine day."
"You're welcome, Mr. Tze. May I take your... stick?"
Please say yes, please say yes-
"Of course, ma'am."
YES!
Your mother doesn't quite seem to know what to do with the Enlightenment Stick, and ends up just leaning it against the wall near the front closet, about where a hat-rack or umbrella stand would go - if your family were old-fashioned enough to have either of those things. Actually, do you even own any umbrellas? It doesn't exactly rain a lot in Sunnydale...
Leaving that aside for now, you unfold the letter and skim the contents while your mother is occupied greeting your guest. Given the ninja-courier, you're not surprised to see that the letter is written in Japanese. It comes as a mild disappointment to realize that you can't read it; your Spell to Comprehend Languages appears to have finally given up the ghost, leaving you with only basic fluency in the foreign tongue, and a scattering of more advanced words (many unfit for use in public).
Gained Japanese E
What's written on the page before you might still be legible, if it were the writings of a child about your age, but there are far too many of the complicated kanji characters for that to be likely. You could cast Comprehend Languages again to make sense of it, but you've used enough magic already this morning that, mana-suppression or no, you'd kind of like to wait a couple hours to give the lingering sorcerous energies time to fully-disperse before you go making more magic. Asking Lu-sensei is also an option, if you don't mind him reading your mail.
You squint at the letter, trying to make sense of the characters spread across the paper. Most of them are just so many dark lines to you, and the handful you can make out are too disconnected from one another to convey any sort of intelligible meaning. You DO have written examples of most of your Japanese friends' names, but you can't seem to find any of them here.
...who is this from?
"Alex?"
Looking up, you find your mother watching you from just inside the living room. You belatedly realize that Lu-sensei has disappeared from the hall, and you can hear him talking to your father.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, Mom," you answer, folding up the letter and tucking it away. "I just need to brush up on my Japanese more than I expected."
She smiles. "Well, that's good to hear. Come on, then."
You don't resist as your mother ushers you back into the living room.
"Alright," she says then. "Does anyone have any requests for lunch?"
Zelda's hand shoots up. "I want ithe cream!"
"Me too!" Briar choruses, even though half the people in the room can't hear her-
"And tho doeth Briar!"
-ah, female conspiracy. Got it.
"Maybe for dessert," your mother concedes.
"I could go for barbeque," your Dad says.
"We don't have any steaks, dear."
There is a sigh of paternal dismay.
"I could manage hamburgers, though," your mother continues. "As long as no one minds waiting a half-hour or so to eat?"
She looks around at the room. Your father shrugs, obviously not quite over the denial of steak. Lu-sensei murmurs a polite acceptance, while Zelda smiles and nods.
Yeah, you have no problem with barbeque burgers.
After a few more questions about preferences in toppings and side-dishes, your mother withdraws to the kitchen, and then heads outside to warm up the grill. Zelda trails after her, sparing Lu-sensei a brief, nervous glance as she goes - not really scared, so much as shyly uncomfortable around this unfamiliar and strangely-dressed old person.
Silence hangs over the living room in the wake of the Harris girls' departure.
"Get you a drink while we wait?" your Dad offers to Lu-sensei.
"I am fine, but thank you for the offer."
You shake your head, and your father nods before heading into the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water, which he sips from as he sits down. Then he starts talking.
"Okay, so, the wife and I have questions and concerns. Mainly, they boil down to wanting to know why we weren't told that our son was going to get mixed up with... weird and exotically-dangerous stuff before now. We agreed to let him sign up for karate lessons expecting bumps and bruises, maybe a cracked bone or dislocated joint if things went badly. Magic and monsters were not in the brochure."
Lu-sensei nods. "And as concerned parents, you feel that I, as your son's teacher, have at best misrepresented myself to you, and at worst failed in my responsibilities."
"In so many words, yes."
"Well, to answer your original question, Mr. Harris, the reason you and your wife weren't told about the supernatural when your son joined my school is that, at the time, I did not know for certain if he would ever become involved with it himself. I suspected he had that potential, but I had no real proof, not until the day when Alex successfully manifested his ki for the first time."
"And when was that?"
"Several months prior to the World Tournament," Lu-sensei admits. "I did not inform you at the time because the unlocking of one's ki abilities is a delicate period in a martial artist's life. Confidence and positive mental attitude are crtiical - if you come to doubt or fear your newfound ability, you can cripple your potential, even seal it off entirely. Having family or friends express similar misgivings can be just as damaging, especially for children of Alex's age."
"So you don't tell people."
"Not until the sensitive stage is past, or their children choose to reveal their abilities." Lu-sensei grimaces slightly. "Given Alexander's progress, I normally would have informed you when we spoke about my taking him to the World Tournament. However, by that time I had become aware of his companion - you have been informed of Briar, I believe?"
"'Informed' sounds about right," your Dad admits. "Kind of hard to have a proper face-to-face with someone who's invisible, but she did turn Alex's shirt pink last night while he was levitating the remote. Apparently he can't cast two spells at once?"
Lu-sensei nods. "There are some highly skilled magic-users who can do such a thing, but it's a skill that Alex has not yet developed - otherwise I suspect he would have used it in the tournament."
You consider that, then shrug. Your Sensei isn't wrong.
"As I was saying, I sensed the fairy's presence, but I cannot truly perceive her any better than you, so I did not know what she was or why she was in Alex's company. I have enough prior experience with spiritual entities to be wary of letting one know that I am aware of her presence, even if she has been benign towards the boy she appears to be haunting. I also know a few people associated with the tournament who are better-suited to investigate such matters than I am, and I had intended to ask one of them to examine Alex for me and recommend a proper course of action. That turned out not to be necessary, though. Alex informed me of Briar's nature and activities practically our first night away from Sunnydale."
"Right after the bit with the unfriendly octopus." Tony nods. "Yeah, he mentioned that part."
Lu-sensei looks at you. "Really?"
Uh-oh.
Under Lu-sensei's silent, non-judgemental gaze, you find yourself unable to continue hold back the entire truth of the situation with Arrogante from your Dad.
Gained Filial Piety D
"I... may have understated how big of an octopus it was," you admit, rubbing the back of your head and not looking directly at your father.
There is a paternal sigh. "By how much?"
"Maybe... ten feet? Plus another eight or so in the tentacles?"
The living room falls silent again. "That's... really not what I would describe as a 'pet,' Alex," your father finally manages.
"From what I was told, 'guard beast' would be more appropriate," Lu-sensei chips in.
"Sort of a big, nasty aquatic pitbull?" your father guesses.
"If pitbulls were crossbred with electric eels, then yes."
"...should have got a beer," you hear your father mutter. "Okay, I have to ask. What kind of person can even keep a thing like that around in the first place, and what happened when they 'came to complain' about Alex picking a fight with it?"
"The beast's master was a rather territorial and rude sorcerer," Lu-sensei explains. "He managed to track Alex back to the suite where we were staying, and he and I had words - mostly about respect, discipline, and what constituted appropriate punishment for young, errant students. I didn't much care for his tone or his demands to start with, and when he tried to force his point by unleashing a pack of little monsters on me and attempting to set me on fire, I rather lost my patience."
"I can see why."
"Hmmm. In any case, our argument woke up Alex, who came to see what was going on and had the good sense to stay out of it, right up until our visitor pulled out the equivalent of an incendiary grenade. At that point, Alex cast a spell that threw the rude fellow out over the balcony he'd so graciously put himself in front of. The fire-bomb spell went off just after that, but the sorcerer had already teleported to safety, and no damage was done in any case."
Your father nods slowly. "Is that kind of ability common with magic?"
"Eh, so-so." Lu-sensei holds out a hand and waggles it. "Putting together something that goes 'boom' is not a particularly difficult task, regardless of the methods you're using. Doing it with magic, on the spot and as quickly as that sorcerer did, does require a certain amount of talent and experience."
"Could you do that, Alex?"
You could, actually. The Spell of Fireball is just about ubiquitous among battle-mages, and for good reason. While it's not always the best answer, not always even a good one, it's fast, easy to use, gets good bang for the magical buck, and can solve a lot of problems in short order. Plus, you know, fire. You could probably cast a Fireball as powerful as Hawaiian Sorcerer Guy's, too, though you might have to overcharge it.