I knew I was a bad writer!
Thanks for all the help by the way. Check out this version and tell me
if it is better than the last version. :)
I hope it is.
A Son's Duty.
A fan fiction based on Takahashi Rumiko's ongoing Manga series, Ranma 1/2
Saotome Ranma, Saotome Genma, Saotome Nodoka, Tendo Akane, Tendo Soun,
Tendo Kasumi, Tendo Nabiki, Tendo Ranko, Kuonji Ukyou, Hibiki Ryouga,
P-chan, Shampoo, Mousse, Kunou Tatewaki, Kunou Kodachi, Kurenai Tsubasa,
and Hinako Sensei are copyright 1987, 1995 by Takahashi Rumiko.
Japan: Shogakukan Inc. Tokyo
Hong Kong: Jademan (Holdings) Ltd.
North America: Viz Inc.
A nervously smiling Ranma was in a combination of shock, fear, and longing.
The woman before her was her mother. The one person that she longed to be
with and get to know, and the one person to whom she could not tell the
truth. To tell her mother who she really was would mean her death.
It was always this way when Saotome Nodoka came to visit the Tendo household.
In order to survive, Ranma had taken the identity of Tendo Ranko, the niece
of Tendo Soun. Everyone in the household went along with this, not only
to protect Ranma and Genma, but because Nodoka would take her own life
after that of her husband and child. A situation which had to be
prevented at all costs.
Still, Ranma _wanted_ to know her mother, to be with her, and to try to
understand her past. Her father had neglected to tell her anything about
her mother, keeping it secret, and not even hinting at who she was and
what she was like. If anything, it made the young girl more anxious, more
curious about the woman who would marry her father. Although it was never
mentioned, Ranma was sure that the marriage was arranged. Who would be
willing to marry that idiot otherwise.
Unfortunately, what hurt Ranma the most during Nodoka's visits were the
lies she had to tell her.
The Tendo's themselves did not feel good about the lies, but given the
situation, it was the _only_ way for Ranma to know her mother. Everyone
in the house realized that it broke Ranma's heart to be near Nodoka, but
never be able to acknowledge that she was her child. It was something
the child would never admit.
The other three girls were sensitive to the circumstances and chose not to
say much about it. Akane saw the pain in his eyes, Kasumi the love in
both of them, and Nabiki the intense longing of something she herself
missed. They felt uncomfortable with the lie but missed their mother too
much to interfere in Ranma's decision.
As long as the young girl had known Nodoka, she felt guilty over what her
father had her doing. All of the lies drained her emotionally and
mentally. It was extremely hard for Ranma; having been torn from her
mother, and then not able to tell her who she was. Of all the things Genma
had done to her life, this was the one thing that she hated most. It was
only by sheer luck that Ranma had not killed her father when she had the
chance, and it was only because of Nodoka that she still had not killed him.
How she longed to tell Saotome Nodoka who she was, despite what family
honour might cause her to do.
*Forget thinking about skewering the old man,* she thought, *I want him to
suffer before he dies. If he hadn't made that stupid promise and had me
sign it when I was too young to know what I was doing, I could be with
her right now!*
Silently swallowing her disappointment and bitterness, Ranma smiled
sweetly, "Ranko-chan is doing wonderfully Auntie Saotome! School is sooo
Nodoka smiled at that and looked at Ranko', who was wet and, as usual,
was dressed very much like a boy. She sighed silently to herself,
*Ranko-chan, whatever am I going to do with you? If only you realized
how pretty you look, and how many boys would ask you out if you tried to
look your best. If only you had someone to watch over you properly.*
If her feelings about Ranko were unusual, so was the situation.
Nodoka realized that something traumatic must have happened in the girls
past for her to behave in the way she did. Always acting and dressing
like a boy, using rough language, and closing herself off from most
people around her. Ranko never seemed to want to be the girl she was.
On top of that the Tendo family had bought Ranko a panda, a _very_
expensive and exotic pet. It seemed to be the only thing that mattered
in her life since she was always playing with it in the water and having
it sleep in her room instead of the yard. In addition, Ranko had taught
her pet to use language, even to the extent of writing signs. The fact
that she had enough time to teach her pet to use language told Nodoka
that Ranko had few, if any, friends.
Nodoka felt a longing, a sense of indescribable loss in that child that
resonated with her own. A longing for a mother, someone she could trust
completely, implicitly. It was for these reasons that she believed Ranko
had been orphaned at an early age, with her parents dying in some
She thought once again of how much pain Ranko must have in her life. The
girl tried to hide her true emotions from her, but she knew that
underneath lay a deep sorrow. Nodoka longed to take the child into her
arms and comfort her as much as possible, to eliminate, for a time at
least, what troubled Ranko.
She had come to love Ranko, and treated her as her daughter.
*If only your mother had lived, or your aunt,* she pondered silently to
herself, *perhaps you would have grown up normally and have been
satisfied being yourself. We've never talked about it, but you must miss
your mother very much. At least, that is what I have seen in your eyes,
and in how you dress and act. It is almost as though you do not want
anyone to come near you, or know you. How hard of a life have you had
Nodoka thought, *I know that you will not openly accept anyone as a
replacement, but I hope that I can at least come close, for your sake...*
Nodoka kept her face happy and bright, as she always tried to do with
Ranko, "That's wonderful Ranko, but where is your school uniform? Was it
damaged in some manner?"
Ranko's face flushed and some beads of perspiration started to appear on
her forehead as she wondered what to say...
At that moment, Akane and Ukyou had just turned into the road that led to
the Tendo home. They walked slowly, an almost palpable air of depression
about them. Ukyou's face had an uncomfortable and resigned look while
Akane's expression was concerned.
The reason for their mood was that they had been discussing,
unsuccessfully, what to do about Ukyou's father. So far, every idea they
had come up with had been rejected as either too simple, too complicated,
or too dangerous to work. If there was a way for Ukyou to be herself, they
weren't able to figure it out on the walk home.
Of course, the panda didn't care about that.
The only concern that Genma had was making sure that Nodoka never found
out the truth about her son. If she did...the panda shivered visibly at
the thought of his wife's Katana, and more, the extreme sense of honour
that she had. At the first possible chance, she would come after him and
perform the role of Kaishaku.
A role that required the person to be a master of Kenjutsu.
He had no doubt that she had practised with the blade and would carry out
the role to perfection. Although she stated that she was clumsy,
Nodoka's speed, the perfection and economy of her movements, and her
accuracy indicated otherwise. He was scared of a lot of things, but his
wife's ready Katana was a fear going beyond the ordinary.
Unfortunately for Genma, his fears were justified considering his past
indiscretions. He had realized long before that if Nodoka found out
about some of the things that he had done, he would be forced to take his
life, or at least pay reparations to many, many people. Nodoka was
extremely serious about every point of honour, every tradition, that made
up the feudal past of
If, make that when, she found out about Genma having stolen and cheated
his way through the long years of training, she would be _extremely_
angry at him. Nodoka definitely would not approve of any of his
methods. She might forgive some of his actions, she might force him to
repay people, but the one thing she would never forgive is what happened
to her son. Nodoka would demand his life for what had happened to Ranma.
Unbidden, his mind went back to that unfortunate day months ago. He had
taken Ranma on a training trip to China, going to many historical places
important to the boy taking over as the sole Master of the School of
Indiscriminate Grappling. The trip had gone extremely well up to that
point, with Ranma enjoying the sights and anxious to learn all he could.
Then came the disastrous trip to Jusenkyou. He had taken Ranma there,
assuming that since it was one of the lengendary training grounds, the
boy would face a true challenge. Unfortunately, Genma was never very
proficient at reading Chinese.
Upon thier arrival, they had engaged the local guide, an old man who
supposedly knew the legends of the past. Genma had thought the two of
them would be able to absorb the wisdom in the stories this person would
tell. A way of making it harder for Ranma to concentrate.
When they had arrived, the guide had indicated that each of the pools had
it's own tragic legend, it's own tale of misery and despair and as such
was too dangerous for anyone to train there. In their stubborn pride,
their conceit over their abilities, they had chosen not to listen. All
that was noticeable were the pools with bamboo poles in each one, ending
approximately ten feet high above the water. A small height to traverse
considering the vast amount of time he had concentrated on developing the
boys inner resources.
Both had stood on the poles in a relaxed stance. They were ready to move,
ready to adjust their attacks. Below them, the guide was trying to get
them down, trying to stop them from doing what they were doing.
Determined and ready, they attacked each other. The style of movement
had to vary, from hard, to soft. General strikes to test each others
Ranma had managed to knock him into a pool first.
He was angry at that, that his son should show him up in such a short time
at a new training ground. That Genma, a Master, should be shown up by
the pupil. He leapt out of the pool and landed on one of the poles,
again facing Ranma, not understanding the boy's startlement, or caring
about what the guide was saying. He struck his off-guard son into a pool,
a short distance away.
It wasn't until Ranma came up out of the pool that he noticed, and decided
To his horror, and his everlasting embarrassment, Genma learned that he
was cursed to become a giant panda every time cold water hit him, and his
son was destined to become his daughter. Hecould never allow himself to
contact his wife again.
Nodoka would _never_ forgive him.
He ran up to both girls, oblivious of their mood, and waving his sign,
trying to get their attention.
Akane looked up, "What is it Uncle Saotome?"
Genma just held his sign for Akane to read.
Ukyou looked at the sign, "Who is Nodoka?"
"She's Ranma's mother, Ukyou." Akane answered, "Except she doesn't know
who Ranma is and thinks that she's my cousin Ranko."
Ukyou turned around to face Akane, "Wait a second, why wouldn't she know
who Ran-chan is?"
Akane looked at the panda in front of her, her eyes narrowing a bit, and
she grabbed hold of one of its checks. "Oh, I'm sure Uncle Saotome would
be able to explain, especially about a promise he made to his wife...."
"Another promise?" Ukyou looked at the panda who was now trying to get
away. His obvious anger was more than enough to make Genma gulp with
fear. Ukyou took the heavy spatula off of his back, twirling it around
like the weapon it really was, "ANOTHER...DAMN...PROMISE..."
A cloud of dust rose quickly as Genma suddenly found himself being made
into panda pancake.
After a while, both girls continued on to Akane's house. Despite the
pleasant diversion, (they had left Genma in a panda sized pothole), both
were still unable to come up with a way for Ukyou to face his father. It
was a difficult problem without any easy solution.
Akane was thinking of all the times that they had successfully pulled off
lies and deceptions. It was not something that she was proud of, indeed,
all of them were privately shamed when it had to occur. If there was
some way to rescue the situation, she wasn't sure what it was, and with
Auntie Saotome visiting, things would become even more complicated.
Something poked at her memory. A trick that had been carried out before,
one that might be able to help...Akane remembered in a sudden flash of
inspiration what it was.
"Ukyou, remember Tsubasa?"
Ukyou winced at that, "Yes, what about him?"
"Remember what you did when you thought that Tsubasa was a girl? The
picture you sent of Ranma saying that she was your fiancee?"
"Yes, so what about...", Ukyou went silent as he realized what Akane was
talking about. If he could claim that he had a relationship with a
_female_ Ranma, then there would not be a problem in facing his father.
In fact, his father might approve of the relationship.
Akane grabbed Ukyou's hand and started running towards the business
district, "Come on, we have some shopping to do!"
Ukyou, who's face had taken on a look of comprehension a few seconds
before, now took on one of consternation. "Akane...Akane-chan, where are
"To buy about two dozen flowers and some cakes."
Ukyou was in a bit of a panic. Akane's hand was firm and he couldn't
shake loose. Moreover, Akane had some sort of idea that she was not
informing him about. "What are you doing?!?"
"Preparing you to become a romantic young man...."
It has been said by many that there is magic in a Japanese blade. No
matter how far away in the world, the reputation of the Japanese blades
have sparked envy, fear, and deep longing in those that wish a good
weapon. They are known over the world for four major factors:
1) The cutting ability
2) The flexibility
3) The respect shown to them
4) The workmanship.
So, how are these weapons made?
According to the experts who write a lot of books, there are many methods
used. Some of these methods described are accurate, some are not.
Others are from the imagination of the writer who "knows" how to do it
without having ever set foot into the room of a creator.
Here is the method that I saw used to make my own sword.
The sword maker need three physical objects before he begins to make the
1) A source of pure carbon
2) A source of iron
3) A source of cold water.
The sword maker needs to have at least one assistant, and the maker must
perform the rituals of purification before considering touching the
After the purification ritual, the sword maker takes the carbon and
creates a very fine powder with it. The powder is then placed into
specially blessed containers and placed carefully aside at a small
shrine. This is left there for the priest or priestess to come and bless.
The iron bearing rocks are then placed inside a small blast furnace. The
process of removing the iron from the rocks takes between four to six
days and the metal is removed from the bottom at that time. This metal
is cut up, and then the cut pieces are placed into a fine ceramic clay and
baked for several days until the metal is liquid again. The ceramic is
then left to cool naturally for about six to eight days. The ceramic
coating is removed, and the metal cleaned. It is then placed inside the
shrine as well for a priest or priestess to bless. It is one of five bars
made at this time.
When this was completed the sword maker contacted the one for whom the
sword was to be made and a Shinto priest or priestess, usually dedicated
to a god of war, although, depending on the swords use, other gods or
goddesses could be invoked. The person for whom the sword was being made
went through a purification ritual, and the blessed bar and powder was
brought out. The iron bar was heated until it was white hot, and an even
layer of carbon powder was poured over the top of the bar. The bar
stayed this way for about three to five minutes and the excess dumped
into the fire. The person for whom the sword was being made makes a cut
and let their blood fall along the length of the bar. The bar was then
folded over and blessed by the priest or priestess as it was sealed by
The bar is folded about two hundred times, using the methods detailed
above, and with the owner coming in at certain times to place more blood
within the blade. In the final fold, the owners blood is placed once
more and sealed with a special blessing being placed upon the bar. Thus the
bar now belongs to the blood line and the saying, "The sword is the soul
of the warrior" takes on a very special meaning.
The whole bar is then shaped carefully and primary grinding and sharpening
is done. The bar, which is now a rude blade, is covered in a thick layer
of clay, and the cutting edge has the clay removed in a careful
triangular pattern. The blade is then heated to the desired temperature
and cooled quickly in the blessed water, thus forming a sharp, flexible edge.
Final grinding and sharpening is now done and polishing is completed.
Any defect in the blade are covered by designs along the blade. The blade
is then signed with the mark of the maker, and it is considered
complete. However, this was not always the case. Some blades came out
so well that no designs were placed on them. In fact, the best blades do
not even have the seal of the maker, as to make a seemingly perfect blade
is, in itself, recognition enough. An unsigned, unadorned sword is the
pinnacle of the sword makers art.
The other bars are formed in the same way to form a set of blade of the
usual following lengths:
Jin Tachi 38 inches
Katana 30 inches
Chisa Katana 24 inches
Wakizushi 20 inches
Tanto 14 inches
Such properly made, properly blessed blades are treasures of a family line.
The righter of wrongs.
This particular role is considered to be one of high honour among those
who still practice the ancient ways. The role being talked about in this
case is that of a second (I can think of no other term in English that is
equivalent. This comes of my lack of knowledge of the English language
and it's usages.) in the process of one committing seppuku. For this role,
the person must be of high personal honour, and of known purity.
Usually, the Kaishaku goes through a ritual of purification before the
morning of the ceremony. The person then stands, or sits on the right
side of the one about to commit themselves to the Kami and is at an angle
that will allow a clean strike to the neck. The Kaishaku knows that the
blow must be struck once, and that it must be as clean as possible. To
this end, the Kaishaku is usually a practitioner of the war art of the
sword known as Kenjutsu.
After the third cut in the case of a man, or a female warrior, or the
second cut of a woman, the Kaishaku strikes hard, and immediately upon
the exposed back of the neck. The Kaishaku then makes the appropriate
offerings and arrangements for the bodies. The Kaishaku then goes to the
lord or to the person to whom the dishonour was done and informs them that
the honourable end to the person who needed to atone has been done.
This role is usually asked of a family member or a very close friend as
the role is one of the greatest trust.
Kenjutsu is the war art of using the sword.
To begin, Kenjutsu differs greatly from Kendo in some significant manners:
1) Kendo uses a Shinai for practising. This is a four piece practice
sword that is quite flexible and does not hurt as much as the Bokken
which is a solid piece of wood used in Kenjutsu practice.
2) Kendo concentrates on the development of the mind and on use of the
sword in a manner conductive to sports while Kenjutsu practices the
development of skills towards the use in an actual battle.
3) Kendoist practice with protective armour when facing each other while
Kenjutsu practitioners do not use armour when using the bokken.
Currently, there are less that 100 publicly known schools of Kenjutsu in
existence although it is known that there are many schools that are still
unofficially thought. At one time, the number of publicly known schools
surpassed 1400 different schools. Although not used today, there are still
some practitioners of this full art who do it out of duty to the art itself.
True Kenjutsu schools are few and far between. It is better for those
interested to find a kendo school and try this before becoming involved
in this art of war.