Hey, would you guys like it better if I put whose talent it is in
the subject or title line?


Howdy, howdy, howdy, howdy, howdy. Look at me everybody!! I'm Woody!!
(hahahah... I guess you guys don't watch Toy Story much...) Anyway, welcome
to the fifth installment of Hidden Talents. I'd like to thank everyone who
has read any of my previous works and thanks bunches to everyone who has
sent in Hidden Talents ideas. You might notice that my style seems to change
a bit with each one... I guess I can only say that while I really love the
subtle romance stories like one and two, I figured the series would get a
little dull if I didn't change things up every now and then.The rest of my
fics are rolling along nicely and more HT's should be out soon. Keep your
eyes peeled for HT 6, it's gonna be a good one!!
Any c&c can be sent to raymond.haney@mohican.mwsu.edu , also, I'd love it if
you'd swing by and see my fan art at
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Garden/5220 , thanks bunches for reading!!


Sweet water and light laughter


Ray "The Texas Ryoga" Haney



Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 and all characters ain't mine!! So there!!



Hidden Talents


Part, the fifth




	Ranma Saotome woke up and found his father missing. As the dark haired
martial artist blearily rubbed the sleep out of his blue eyes, he scanned
the room and took in Genma's missing form and his already wrapped and stowed
futon. He groaned. The old man had done it again.
	"Oh man, " Ranma muttered in irritation, "this is the third time this week
he's skipped out on morning practice. Where the heck has he been going?"
Ranma continued to mutter and wonder as he slowly gathered himself together
to go to school. After a brief workout by himself and a quick breakfast, he
headed out the door and started his morning fighting with Akane. After their
standard running argument and showing up just in time, the heir to the
Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts let himself become immersed in
what was, for him anyway, a normal day.
	After two legitimate duels with Kuno and Ryoga, fighting seven opponents
who he barely registered as worth his time, fending off the advances of
Shampoo, and seventeen thousand, five hundred and forty-two dollars worth of
structural damage to nearby buildings, (the rumor that several insurance
companies had a contract on Ranma was purely fictitious.... really) Ranma
headed for home after a largely uneventful day. After all, he mused to
himself, no major demons were unleashed, no horrible curses bestowed, and
he'd even managed to get through a day without seeing Happosai. Yet
throughout the day, ever present and bubbling at the back of his mind, was
the simple question of where had his father gone? Ranma resolved to find out.
	He sent Akane ahead while he went around to various places and asked if
anyone had seen his old man. The Cat Cafe? No. The Ucchan? No. Terry's
Teriyaki Take-out? Not since last week, and remind him of his tab, okay?
Shin's dojo? No. Master Kim's? No. After hitting all the dojo's,
restaurants, and even the few restaurant/dojo's (the service at King's
Combat Diner has to be experienced to be explained, mused Ranma) Ranma was
no closer, in fact, now a little farther from finding out where his father
had been disappearing to. Steering for home, he decided he'd just have to
find out straight from the panda's mouth, or sign, or whatever it took.
	Unfortunately, the Tendo dojo held no answers for him. Apparently his
father had come in and departed again soon after. The only sign that he'd
been there was that he'd apparently changed clothes and had left his dirty
gi and headrag lying on the floor. Ranma examined the two curiously. The gi
had what appeared to be ash and soot on it and smelled very smoky. The
headrag was still damp with sweat and looked as if it had been soaked clean
through. Ranma's curiosity was growing by leaps and bounds. He decided to
wait his father out, and, the next time he left, he would follow him. Ash
and soot?


*	*	*	*

	Genma Saotome stealthily rose from his futon in the dark of pre-dawn. He
knew that he had come in late, the previous evening. He knew that Ranma was
curious as to what he was doing, however, he also knew that he was a high
enough master of martial arts that he could sneak out without making a
sound. Were Ranma asleep, he would never have known his father had awoken
and left. Of course, Ranma wasn't asleep.
	He lay awake, feigning his snoring and tossing with an Oscar winning
performance. But the instant Genma departed the room, he flipped up and
began to pad after him. Through the halls of the Tendo dojo, out the main
gate and through the streets of Tokyo, Genma Saotome never realized he left
a ghostly trail. Ranma watched from shadows and followed from rooftops. The
two men moved at a mile eating pace, one that only a martial artist of the
Saotome school of Anything Goes Martial Arts could have possibly been able
to keep. Finally, after leaving Tokyo and seeing the first vestiges of dawn
rise through the sky, Genma apparently arrived at his destination.
	Ranma stood in front of a large sign in confusion. He had just witnessed
his father enter the doors just past the sign after clasping his hands and
bowing his head. Ranma had never seen his father look so focused, not even
when teaching or practicing their art. The trail had been a long one and
Ranma took a moment to try to figure out where they were. They had left the
industrialized city limits some time ago and now were in a slight clearing
surrounded by forest. Before him stood a small building with smoke beginning
to curl out of a chimney in the back of the roof. A large bin of what
appeared to be coal was to the left of the structure and, of course, the
sign in front of him. It had a picture of a large hammer on it, and simply
stated, 'Nobunga's Craft'. Ranma shook his head again and carefully edged in
the front door.
	He was immediately hit by a wall of heat. He could hear a clanging noise,
like steel on steel. The sound had a definite rhythm to it, a series of
double taps followed by a louder, solid, bang. The place smelled like metal,
and had a burnt, overcooked scent to it. Ranma realized he was standing in a
foundry. He could see a few people scurrying back and forth in the
peripherals of his vision, doing things he could only guess at, but his
attention focused in front of him.
	* tap tap whack *
	His father stood in front of a furnace and anvil with his back to him. A
man in a grayish, soot stained coverall that may have once been white stood
next to him, pumping a bellows. Genma held a mass of steel to the anvil with
a set of dark tongs in one gloved hand and was wielding a hammer in the
other. His gi clung to his body with sweat as his broad shoulders and back
powered his movements.  
 * tap tap whack *
Ranma could only gape, to his eyes his father looked like some sort of
automaton, 
or some ancient, legendary smith. He stood in front of the forge, tirelessly
pounding with his hammer, like some kind of immortal being, crafting the
world. The man pumping the billows suddenly saw Ranma and pointed and said
something he couldn't hear. Genma stiffened and turned. At that moment,
somewhere in the foundry, a flame flared and Ranma blinked his eyes. When he
focused on his father again he saw that he was staring at him with an
expression of incomprehension, as if he was not quite sure why Ranma was
there. Genma gestured for Ranma to approach and said something to the man
beside him. He nodded and disappeared into to the depth of the room.
	"So boy, curiosity get the better of you?"
	Before Ranma could reply, Genma steered him in front of the bellows. "Make
yourself useful boy, I'll answer all your questions if you keep the flame
going."
	* tap tap whack *
	Ranma automatically reached out and began pumping the bellows. "What's.."
	Before he could finish his question, Genma cut him off, "Alright boy, I'll
explain at my own pace, but right now..."
	With that Genma lifted the chunk of metal and thrust it into the furnace.
Ranma saw his lips silently count out a full minute and then he pulled the
steel out and resumed beating it on the anvil.
	* tap tap whack *
	"Alright boy, ask away."
	Ranma's mind latched onto his foremost question,"What is this place, pop?"
	"Well my boy, this is Tokugawa Nobunga's craftshop and foundry."
	"That's not explaining much, Pop," Ranma replied a little crossly.
	Genma smiled. "I'll give you that one son," he released a long breath,
never pausing in his rhythm of hammering. "Tokugawa is an old friend, and
when I told him of an idea I had, he very graciously allowed me the run of
the place. Ranma, say hello to Mr. Nobunga." Genma nodded his head behind him.
	Ranma started and looked over his shoulder, under the cover of the foundry
noise, the man who had been pumping the bellows had returned and was now
standing behind him. He looked to be in his late fifties, with iron gray
hair and a square jaw and face. His arms looked wiry and powerful and he
held a piece of cloth in his hand. Ranma began to turn and say hello and the
man stepped up with a slight frown on his face.
	"Don't stop pumping the bellows, lad!!" He clapped Ranma on the shoulder as
he continued pumping. He looked past Ranma towards his father and continued,
"Well, if your son is here, I suppose he can take over the crank work."
Genma nodded and Nobunga grinned. "Good, I always hated pumping bellows,
anyway. Here, lad," with that, Nobunga took the strip of cloth and tied it
around Ranma's forehead. "This'll help keep that sweat that's building up on
your brow from getting in your eyes. Don't stop pumping that bellows." The
man began walking away and shot over his shoulder, "I'll be back in a bit to
check on your progress, you should be almost finished!!" Genma nodded a
wordless reply and continued hammering.
	* tap tap whack *
	"So is this where you've been going every morning? And why are you hitting
the anvil like that?"
	"Well," Genma replied, still striking with that peculiar triple rhythm. "I
hit the anvil twice to allow the hammer to cool in between strikes at the
hot metal. And yes, I've been coming here every morning to fold the steel."
	"Fold?"
	"Genma nodded affirmatively. "The past days have all been developing the
steel. Blending it, mixing it and then folding the steel over and over. You
heat it up, basically bend it back onto itself and hammer it out again. This
strengthens the metal."
	"How many times did you do that? Fifteen, twenty?"
	"752 times." Genma raised his voice but couldn't hide the slight smile in
it, "Keep pumping the bellows Ranma."
	* tap tap whack *
Ranma belatedly continued pumping the bellows, as sweat began to spot his
shirt and trickle down the back of his neck. "So, when did you learn how to
do this stuff? How come you've never talked about this place before? And
what the heck are we making.?"
	Genma grunted as he hammered, "Well, let me see where to start with these
answers. I learned the art of the forge before I studied with Master
Happosai. Tokugawa and I were students together, many years ago. I never
told you of any of this because I didn't want it to distract you from your
training. Also, I never really figured it to be any of your business, I
wanted to keep this as a hidden talent of mine. And," Genma paused and
thrust the metal into the forge. After another minute, he pulled the glowing
mass of metal out. "What does it look like, boy? We're making a sword."
	Ranma stared at the fiery red piece of metal, even as his father lowered it
to the anvil and began banging away. It was a single strip of steel, curved
and pointed at one end. A katana. "But, I had no idea you knew how to forge
a sword..."
	Genma looked towards him, a twinkle in his eye. "Really, boy? Where do you
think your mother got her katana from?" At Ranma's open-mouthed reaction,
Genma chuckled, "That's right boy, I made it for her."
	"Who's this one for?" Ranma blurted out.
	Genma levelly stared at him and actually stopped swinging his hammer. The
sudden silence was powerful. "Who do you think, boy? When I crafted that
blade for your mother, I poured my soul into it. It was a part of me, the
only way I could make it was to place as much love into the blade as I felt
for her." Genma turned his head, hammer lowering now to the ground. "That's
why I never followed the path of craft my boy. I could never create anything
of quality unless I poured a part of myself into it. I couldn't do that and
see some stranger with the end product. I once thought that your mother was
the only person I loved enough to be able to give her a part of my soul. But
lately, I've found that there is somebody else who I not only care for, but
who I owe. Someone who's life has been hardship, largely because of me. So I
now find myself in front of a forge that I never thought I'd be in front of
again, placing a bit of me into something that I'm going to give to someone
else. So, again, who do you think this is for boy?"
	Ranma swallowed hard, he'd never really thought that his father ever
thought like this. "This blade is.... for me?"
	Genma nodded slowly. "Yes my boy, my son. This blade will be a gift to you
on your twenty-first birthday. And hopefully, one day you will hand this
blade to someone who means much to you, much as I did to your mother."
	Ranma looked down at his feet, shuffling uncomfortably, he looked up to see
his father gazing at him with a mixture of regret, pride, and another
emotion that Ranma couldn't quite, or perhaps didn't want, to identify.
"Pop, I...."
	A hand clasped on both men's shoulders, startling them.
	"Eh, what? Finished?!" Nobunga stood in between them, grinning largely.
"Uh," he regarded both men's grave faces, "Am I interrupting something?"
	"Not at all, old friend, I was just explaining to my ingrate son how hard
it was to craft a sword."
	"Ingrate!!" Ranma retorted, "Look Pop!!..."
	"Now, now," Nobunga butted in soothingly. "Saotome, is the blade finished?"
	Genma looked at the still smoldering piece of steel and suddenly lifted it
and thrust it into a trough of water beside the forge. Steam hissed and rose
from it. "It is now."
	He lifted the cooling metal out and even raw and unsharpened, unpolished,
it seemed to gleam and already have an edge. Nobunga's eyes shown,
"Magnificent, Genma. Truly magnificent. I am working on the hilt and guard
now. We'll join the parts and polish them all down. The carvings and
patterns that you requested will be etched into the blade. This will truly
be a work of art and probably the finest piece of steel to be produced in
the last hundred years." He bowed to the two of them and hurried off,
carrying the sword with the set of tongs. Once more, he fired off a
departing comment, "About five weeks, old friend. I'll give you a call when
it's finished!"
	Genma waved a hand and turned to his son. His face was blank and under
control, the emotions that he had shown earlier hidden. "Let's go son."
	Ranma looked back and slowly stored his emotions. He knew he would remember
this moment, replay it in his mind and treasure it for the rest of his life.
That was enough for him. "O.K. pop."

Epilogue


	"Ranma, why the heck do you do that?" Akane Tendo asked exasperatedly.
	"Do what?" Ranma asked defensively.
	The two were sitting at the kitchen table studying for an upcoming exam.
	"You used to rap your fingers, and at first it was actually soothing, but
now it's getting a little annoying. I can't study with you rapping your
knuckles like that."
	"Huh," Ranma was genuinely puzzled, he was unaware that he had been rapping
his knuckles at all.
	"Look, just like that!!" Akane pointed and they both watched as his hand
almost automatically softly thumped the tabletop and then rapped it a bit
harder.

	* tap tap whack *
	

Fini



post: Well, I'm not quite sure where this one came from. I can't remember
exactly what it was, but I just one day got this image of Genma in front of
a forge, just endlessly pounding away and crafting a blade. Oh, and any
sweat wouldn't have transformed them because at that temperature, even the
sweat is hot!!