This will eventually go somewhere between chapters 3 and 5.  I don't
have a title for it yet.


.....................................................................................


	Kenshiro leaned against the wall outside the Tendo dojo, still feeling
a little annoyed over the events at the Cat Cafe.  Taken individually,
Sayami and Seiko were pretty, likeable girls who were fun to be around. 
Taken together, they turned into nasty, catty girls who were no fun at
all to be around.  And although each girl claimed to be fighting "for
him," he suspected this was true only in the sense that hockey players
fought for the puck.  They had always been competitive, but lately they
had become so meanspirited that he had taken to avoiding them whenever
possible.  

	The sight of Ryoshi and Shimi approaching brought him out of his
reverie.  He was a little ambivalent about teaching Ryoshi the
Anything-goes school.  One one hand, he was happy to help his friend and
classmate, but on the other--the boy looked so fragile.  It was hard to
believe that he was Kenshiro's age.  On top of that, he had heard that
Ryoshi's mother had expressly forbidden him to study any martial art
whatsoever, due to his health.  Despite Mrs. Hibiki's playful, kittenish
personality, she could be very unpleasant when crossed, and Kenshiro did
not relish the idea of making her mad.

	As the two arrived, Kenshiro pushed open the door to the dojo.  Spiders
had gotten into the building and spun webs in the corners.  Various bits
of equipment sat in one corner, as if stacked there temporarily, but the
room was otherwise empty.  A light layer of dust lay on the floor and
flew into the air as they entered.  
  
	Kenshiro grimaced.  "I didn't realize it had been this long since we
cleaned it."  He threw open the windows.  "Dad doesn't train in here
anymore, so I guess we just quit using it."

	"Shall we start?" said Ryoshi tightly.

	"I guess so." He looked about uncertainly.  "How much did your mom
teach you?"

	"Nothing."

	"Nothing?"

	"Almost nothing.  I've learned some tricks for breaking out of holds,
but that's all.  Mom thinks I'll break in half if anyone hits me, like
I'm made of clay or something."

	Kenshiro nodded.  "Did she tell you not to study any martial art?"
	
	"Did someone say she did?"

	"I heard it at school."
	
	Ryoshi scowled.  "Yeah.  School."  He looked at Shimi, who rubbed the
back of her head, then back at Kenshiro.  "It's true.  I'm doing this
behind her back."
	
	"Why?"

	Ryoshi flared angrily.  "Because I--"  He stopped abruptly and clenched
his fists, fighting for composure.  "Because I'm tired of being the weak
little sick boy.  I'm tired of having to depend on my big sisters to
protect me.  I want people to say 'hey, there's Ryoshi.  He's cool.' 
Whenever someone wants to talk to me now, he wants a date with one of my
sisters or--gods help me--with Kimiko."  Kenshiro winced.  Ryoshi's
feelings for Kimiko were an open secret to anyone who knew him.  "My mom
says I'll get hurt," continued Ryoshi, "but I don't care if I do.  She
doesn't think I can do anything anyway."

	"I'm not sure I should be helping you disobey your mother."

	"Tendo-kun," said Ryoshi quietly, "You owe me."

	Four years ago, Aunt Nabiki had been arrested, and the twins had
instantly become pariahs.  Time and a great deal of Kimiko's personal
magic had restored them to something resembling respectability, but the
"modern" and "enlightened" students still whispered about it
occasionally.  During this time, Ryoshi had been the only one in their
class who had refused to abandon them, even in the face of much
derision, even abuse, by their other, larger classmates.

	Ryoshi was right.  Kenshiro and Kimiko both owed the half-chinese boy
an immense debt of gratitude.  He had no choice but to teach him and
hope Mrs. Hibiki would see reason.

	There was one other thing.  "This won't change Kimiko's feelings."

	"I try to be satisfied with her friendship," Ryoshi said stiffly.

	Kenshiro nodded.  "All right, I'll teach you."  He turned to Shimi. 
"What about you?"

	Shimi blinked.  "What?"

	"What did your mother teach you?"	

	"I, uh, not that much," she replied, blushing.

	"Why not?"

	"Well, it was boring.  Stand there and do the same thing over and over
again.  And I wasn't any good, either, so . . . I kept asking Mama to
let me quit, and she finally did."  

	Kenshiro frowned.  "So why are you here?"

	"Well, Ryoshi wanted a sparring partner, and he said you don't do
katas, so I thought . . ."

	"Well, you thought wrong.  We don't do kata because we don't think
they're effective, not because they're boring.  We do a lot of stuff
that *is* boring--boring and hard.  I don't think I want to teach you,
Shimi.  Either you can't do it or you don't want to, and either way
you're wasting my time."

	Shimi looked down, twisting the hem of her skirt.  "I can do that thing
Daddy does."

	"What thing?"

	"You know, where you're feeling really down, and you sorta pull all the
bad vibes down into the pit of your stomach, and--"

	Kenshiro gaped at her.  "The ROARING LION BULLET?!  You can do THAT?  I
. . . *I* can't do that!"

	Shimi raised her chin and looked at him.  "Well, I can.  It's not that
hard, really, once you learn how."  

	Kenshiro blinked, still stunned.  He still couldn't control his ki well
enough to do a ki-blast, and this basically untrained girl was telling
him it was "easy once you learned how."  It was hard to believe, but he
knew Shimi well enough to know she was not lying.  He looked over at
Ryoshi, who was grinning at him.  "All right," he said quietly.  "I'll
teach you.  But you have to promise you'll stick with it, even if you're
bored, or you think you're not learning anything.  Even if you think you
suck."

	Shimi held out her hand, little finger extended.  Kenshiro linked it
with his own.  "I promise," she whispered.

	"Thank you."

	Shimi smiled.  "So . . . there are things the great Kenshiro Tendo
can't do, hmm?"

	"Yes, Shimi," sighed Kenshiro.  "Ki-blasts are something the great
Kenshiro Tendo can't do, and dealing with Hibikis is another.  Now, are
you two ready?" 

	"What *are* you going to ask us to do?" asked Ryoshi.

	"I'm going to drill you in the basic movements until you get them
right.  This could take anywhere from a few days to several months.  In
the meantime, you'll be running, skipping rope, and lifting weights." 
He walked over to a heavy punching bag slumped in the corner with the
other equipment.  "Once I'm satisfied that you know the basics, you'll
start sparring.  You'll spar with each other, you'll spar with me, and
you'll spar with this thing."  He spun and kicked the bag, which
retaliated with a heavy cloud of dust.  Kenshiro backed away, choking.

	"This is no good," he said when he'd recovered.  "We're simply going to
have to clean this place first."
	
-- David