Preamble.
Alright, so this is my second posting to the FFML.
I have been getting a largish amount of email from people telling
me that my website links to this series didn't work. Actually I
realised it was because only the later versions of IE could open them
properly. I have tried to fix the problem, so would you all have mercy
upon an ignorant writer, and try to visit them again sometime? My FFML
versions are of course only FFML versions of the originals which are at
http://members.xoom.com/dojohouse
In any case hope you enjoy part two of
Way of the Ninjitsu.
A Fanfiction by Jason Wong.
Inspired by Ruminko Takahashi's
Ranma 1/2.
Chapter 2. Rigours of the training.
Kagora was reading the clan's latest finance tallies when a quiet
knock broke his reverie. He raised tired eyes to see a tall, hawkish
figure standing silhouetted by the fading moonlight. The figure was
quickly identified as one Kurano Hitoshi, the master of the guard.
Speaking pleasantly despite his fatigue, Kagora opened, "What can I
do for you, Hitoshi?" It was after sunset, so official titles could be
forgone.
"Saotome Genma has returned once more. We caught him trying to
scale the perimeter palisade." Hitoshi curtly responded. "Despite
your request that we treat this intruder with leniency, he is in addition
continually disrupting the peace of the people." He didn't need to add
that the protection of the neighbouring populace was a sworn duty.
"So what has he done to our people this time?" Kagora valiantly
resisted the temptation to hold his head in his hands. It had been 2
months since they had last heard from that man - the ninja master had
vainly hoped it would have been the last.
"What, besides being a general pain in the arse? Well, today Kato, a
contact in Hashima caught that fat fool stealing bread from a local
vendor." Hitoshi paused, as if considering his words. "I know that you
are reluctant to harm this man - he is after all the father of a clan
member, but I have to act in some way or I risk failing my duty."
Kagora sighed reluctantly. "Fine then, would you mind employing
some of your crew to 'procure' this individual? I think it best if I have a
private conversation with him."
Hitoshi nodded silently and stepped out of the dojo. Before leaving he
turned, "I will have him before you at 8 o'clock tonight, punctual as
always." With that said, he moved out, and disappeared into the
shadows of the walkway. Kagora returned to his perusal of the tallies,
quietly dwelling on just how he would have to deal with Saotome
Genma.
****************
Dawn arose early in Yamakoro, complete with the sprightly trilling of
the mountain birds, and the cold, crisp thin air which Ranma had
come to associate with living at the higher altitudes. As always when
he arose, breakfast was waiting at the low table beside his futon. Up
till now, he had never caught Meyah in the act of laying out the
morning meal - the combination of his heavy sleeping, and her almost
ghostly ability to waft anywhere without detection ensured that this
ritual would continue for a long time yet.
Rising quickly, the young trainee donned his daily outfit. Unlike the
other students at his level, who generally wore either the ninja's black
gi or the tight fitting bodysuits (black as always), his chosen apparel
was a jet silken Chinese shirt tied by ebony pegs, combined with
black kung-fu style trousers. Ever since his arrival at Yamakoro,
Ranma had developed a fixation on this combination, and wore little
else - in and out of training. This was of course perfectly fine with his
master, Kagora sensei, but even Meyah's air of practicality and
functionality was up in arms at her charge's lack of variety. However it
was against the advice of both his mother and sensei, that the boy
had maintained his characteristic pigtail. The former saw it as a
bother to wash, whilst the latter's only concern was that enemies
might use it as a convenient hand hold in combat. However,
Ranma appeared to manage quite sufficiently against both these
expected trials - the last person to try and grab his pigtail during a
sparring match had earned a bruised cheek from a well placed head
butt. Apparently, the young trainee was perhaps a little sensitive
about his hairstyle.
The final item to be donned was a simple bandanna upon which was
embroidered at the forehead in silver, the crest of Shinkasa - a
dragon coiled around a roaring tiger. For the ninjas, the bandanna
was an important status symbol - not only because it identified the
clan, but that its colour marked the wearer's rank in the clan
population. Novices wore the pure white, trainees the grey, and the
fully trained ninjas carried matt black. Only a very select few had the
honour of wearing the gold headband - the mark of the masters and
the most accomplished in their fields. Ranma sighed wistfully as he
finished the last knot which tied his own grey bandanna around his
forehead. It was at the tender age of seven, a week after his arrival
into the Clan, when he had sworn that one day he would achieve the
gold. Even so, to most of the children in his age group, the young boy
already carried a great honour. It was unprecedented that anyone
below the age of twelve be already carrying the trainee's grey - but
Kagora had insisted that his student was more than skilled enough to
bear its responsibilities and trials, age notwithstanding. A quick
demonstrative sparring match had quickly drawn acceptance from
the other masters.
**************
Meyah was pacing swiftly back toward her quarters after having
completed her morning contemplation with Master Kagora. As she
neared the entrance, her sharp ears detected the faint slurpings and
gulps which indicated that again her charge was once more inhaling
his meal in a most undignified way. She appeared at the doorway
with a mild frown and a slightly exasperated, "Ranma, what did I
TELL you about eating like that?"
The response was a young face wrinkled in contriteness, and an
apologetic, "Sorry Mom, it won't happen again."
"Ranma, you said that two days ago." But she was smiling at his
reference. Neither of them knew just when Ranma had started calling
his guardian 'Mom', but then again neither objected. It seemed
appropriate - after all, Meyah cared for him, cooked his meals (his
own culinary training would come in time), and had in addition quickly
grown to love the na�ve little boy. That Meyah was a little young to
have a child of Ranma's age was circumstantial, and in any case
Ranma had come to dote on the pleasant ninja, who provided the
love and tenderness that had been sorely lacking in his childhood.
Meyah nodded approvingly as Ranma consciously adopted a more
sedate pace in his eating. From very early on, Meyah had
established a mental listing of all the points she would have to re-
educate her 'child' upon. Amongst those were his somewhat irritating
habit of stealing food from others, his slang infected speech, and his
curious notions concerning members of the opposite sex. After 8
months living at Shinkasa House, he was still leery of fighting full out
against females - a factor which had infuriated the girls who sparred
with him.
Still, Ranma was on the improving course, and Meyah was
determined to exorcise totally his lack of initiative in striking a girl -
such hesitation would easily cost him dearly if he were to fight in the
real world. The ninja knew all too well that there were plenty of women
out there (herself included) who would think nothing of taking
advantage of such a weakness. Unlike the creeds of mainstream
Japanese, as well as those who practiced Bushido, Clan Shinkasa
did not recognise differences in sex beyond the privacy required for
changing clothes and the single gender sleeping arrangements for
the younger trainees (it wasn't considered wise to promote any
'inappropriate' behaviour between young teenagers).
Checking his watch, Ranma hastily finished off his breakfast and
stacked the dirtied dishes beside the sink in the kitchen next door.
He would wash them later. Offering a quick hug to his guardian and a
hasty goodbye, he dashed off for his first lesson. Meyah sighed a little
at his rapidly retreating figure. Kogara was really working the child
very hard indeed.
**************
Ranma cautiously padded into the dojo. As always it appeared
empty. He carefully inspected the known niches large enough to
conceal a crouching adult, repeated experience allowing him to
quickly identify the known trouble spots.
Despite this, the only warning he had of the attack was the whisper of
air on silk as a weighted garrote snaked from above seeking to
encircle his neck in a choking grip. Ranma's natural lightning reflexes
were all that saved him from being strung up, but even so the silken
cord closed dangerously close - latching onto his flying pigtail for an
instant. Sailing across the dojo in a leap that was at least logically too
large for someone of his size, the young child landed lightly on his
toes, and spun into a defensive crouch, index and middle finger
outstretched in preparation for a possible critical strike. He stared
with unnatural intensity as the attacker revealed herself. *Wait a
moment, Master Kagora isn't a she.* Eyes widened in realisation of
the trick, but his reactions were too late as a pair of fingers jabbed
forcefully from behind and struck at the joint in his shoulder - a
numbing but not particularly dangerous strike. However, for the
purposes of the training, it was clear that he had already lost. His
attacker could just have easily crushed his carotid artery, as would
have been the case in a 'real' fight. Ranma bowed his head in defeat.
The battle had lasted all of 3 seconds. Wincing at his error, he was
unsurprised when a voice from behind almost casually commented,
"As I recall Kohai, you supposedly learned yesterday to ALWAYS be
cautious of a dual headed attack. The way you responded to Mishi's
advance there was just crying out for a blindside, not so hmmm?"
Smiling inwardly at Ranma's self-berating expression, he turned to
his 'accomplice'. "Thank you for your time Mishi, that will be all."
Ranma shook his head exasperatedly. Some things took plenty of
time getting used to, and one of those was the Ninjitsu's concepts of
honour. From very early on, Ranma had discovered that unlike martial
artists who supposedly followed Bushido, shadow warriors did not
recognise the tactic of sneaking upon your opponent as in any way
dishonourable. To a ninja, the ability to sense imminent attack, and to
be wary of surprises was an integral part of his or her training -
indeed to be caught unawares was if anything a failure on the target's
part as opposed to a dishonour on the attacker. On his first official
sparring match, Ranma had received a very painful kick in the head
before he had even realised that his partner had already arrived to
begin the duel. It was later revealed that she had been waiting in the
rafters above in the hope of stealing the first strike before he even
saw her. Yes, and the fact that she was a girl, and only a year older
only made the loss more galling. From then onwards, Ranma had
been constantly wary of his surroundings - even out of training.
Returning to the here and now, Ranma attempted to change the
subject. "What are we gonna learn today, sensei?"
"GOING to, Ranma" he corrected, "and we are going to introduce you
to the art of weapons combat." His raised hand forestalled Ranma's
instinctive refusal. "Yes, yes I know. You've have mentioned it to me
often enough." His voiced raised a few octaves in a fair impression of
Ranma's young voice. "A TRUE practitioner of Anything Goes
NEVER has to resort to weapons." Returning to his normal voice he
continued, "I have already allowed you to continue your practice of
your own style, against the advice from the other masters. You might
at least TRY to employ a weapon for a few days, instead of constantly
shunning them as you are wont to do. Remember that you can never
reach the rank of ninja without training in combat tools. What is it
anyway that you find so objectionable to bearing arms?
"..." Ranma's mouth had opened to respond, before he realised
that he had nothing to reply beyond 'Pop said so' - an argument which
had little meaning nowadays to either him or his teachers.
"You hold your Anything Goes so high and mighty - and with good
reason, for it is perhaps the best unarmed style to be found. But if I
put a katana in your hands you wilt like a sack of flour. You'd be more
of a danger to yourself wielding a blade than to your enemy." Ranma
remained silent, but his gaze was still defiant. Kogara rubbed his
forehead - was it just the weather or was he getting more of those
headaches nowadays? As of yet he had refrained from issuing direct
commands to his kohai, but the boy could be so very stubborn, even
thoughtlessly so, and in resistance to logic.
"Look, Ranma, I'm not asking you to spend the rest of your life toting
a weapon, but you NEED the experience of handling one. You have
never even tried it before - you can't possibly know if it is a way to be
taken or not. If nothing else it will teach you how to better defend
yourself against a weapon bearer." He paused, reluctant to continue.
"As your sensei I could order you to take up arms under threat of
banishment, but I will refrain from that. The choice will still be yours."
With that he gestured to the uncomfortable boy before him, indicating
an expectation for a response.
There was a strained silence between the pair as they stood before
each other - a 7 year old ninja trainee, and a 63 year old grandmaster
of the shadow. After an interminable delay, Ranma finally caved in
with a unhappy, "Alright Sensei, I'll give weapons a try."
It went against everything he had been taught in the Art, but hey, it
was supposed to be 'Anything Goes', so carrying a weapon might not
be so very bad. Somehow that wasn't a very convincing argument.
Despite all the trials and hardships the young boy had borne under
his journeys with his father one thing remained constant - the art of the
Mutsabeto Kakuto Ryu. Everything he had endured, the loneliness
and the pain had been for this style, and this style only. Now he was
breaking one of the fundamentals of its teachings, and if he continued
it, the Anything Goes within him would never be pure. Up till now
Ranma had doggedly tried to uphold it, integrating what he was
taught into the matrix of the unarmed form - as was proper, but it was
clear that he was now destined to be a practitioner of two separate
and distinct arts - one of which he instinctively knew his father would
never approve of.
Actually maybe that was not so depressing after all. Even a minor
employment of arms might symbolise a final break with his past - a
detachment from the evils which his father had committed in the
name of the art. He had learned from Meyah of what the Shinkasa
spy network had unveiled concerning his fathers numerous breakings
of the law. Meyah had refrained from mentioning his numerous
engagements - there was no point distressing the child over duties he
technically had to fulfill. She had quickly noticed that her charge could
sometimes display a slightly over-inflated sense of honour, and the
enigma of lawfully being unable to satisfy all of his betrothals was
something Ranma most certainly did not need. In any case the love
and respect he bore for his blood parent notwithstanding (after all,
Genma was still a very skilled martial artist), Ranma had been
disgusted and horrified by the revelations. In that instant all those
inexplicable times when the pair had been forced to flee, or when
Ranma had beaten off enraged shopkeepers were suddenly given
meaning. Added to that was the realisation that he himself as 'part of
his training' had unwittingly injured numerous persons seeking
retribution over his father's crimes, and Ranma had taken an almost
obsessive desire to isolate himself from his estranged parent. Yes,
for that, maybe learning a weapon might not be so very bad.
Kogara's mildly amused comment broke through his train of thought.
"Now now, you needn't look so forlorn. You may find that you grow to
like using a weapon. I know I enjoy the security of having more than
my fists to defend myself."
Ranma's eyebrows raised in confusion. Up till now he had never seen
his sensei carry anything more threatening than a smoking pipe.
Seeing his student's look of disbelief Kogara added, "Oh yes, I'm
currently carrying two sai, and a bandoleer of shuriken." With no
further ado, Kogara snapped his hands and suddenly there were
two thin tapering daggers with re-curving hand guards twirling
between thumb and index fingers. "Yes, I find sai to be very useful
tools, as they can be wielded both as thrown projectiles, whilst their
grappling ability allows them to be used against opponents with more
hefty blades."
The intricacies of the flexibility of Kogara's chosen blades were totally
lost on the young child, as he was still trying to figure out just how his
sensei had defied the basic laws of volume and space. *Perhaps
they're foldable?*
"No I didn't squeeze them or fold them into my sleeves" Kogara said,
correctly interpreting the child's bafflement, "it is a hidden weapons
technique taught by the Chinese Amazons..which you are NOT
learning for a long time yet." The last statement was added in
response to Ranma's eager change of expression. "Come now we
have much to do before your mathematics and history classes
begin."
"Hai sensei." *How the hell did he do that?*
**************
With his extended time spent in the Shinkasa compound, Ranma had
developed an acute familiarity with the locations of its various
facilities. Most of the blood related Clan trainees had some
relative with whom they could live - with a population of only 200 or so
at any one time there was room enough for most of the higher ranking
members to have quarters of their own - or in Ranma's case to find a
guardian to care for him. Town trainees, lodgers, and transients from
Shinkasa holdings elsewhere usually resided in the main barracks,
which were 2 long wooden constructions near the centre of the
compound.
However, all of this was bypassed, as Kogara led his kohai across to
the Western wing. Because Shinkasa house lay upon the eastern
slope, this wing was the highest point in the area, where one could
attain an impressive vista of the landscape. Here too was a largish
stone entryway which had been cut into the side of a cliff. Ranma had
no idea what was contained inside, and up till now he hadn't really
cared - so focused he was on the basics of his life (training, eating
and sleeping).
However, it looked that he was soon to find out. As they neared the
entrance, adorned with rearing dragons cut into the living stone,
Kogara motioned for Ranma to stand aside as he opened the
massive oaken sliding doors. They moved surprisingly swiftly, rolling
on oiled hinges, and once sufficient space had been attained, the
master motioned his student to enter.
Ranma tentatively stepped inside, and then stopped. And gaped.
There was a single spacious natural cavern, by the boy's estimate at
least 50 metres in length and twice as wide. Light was provided by
bands of fluorescent and halogen tubes (Shinkasa kept a unique
combination of old and new technology). But perhaps the most
awesome of spectacles was what lay arrayed before him in neatly
ordered racks - multitudes of combat implements of all styles, lengths,
weight and whatnot. The variety was baffling - bo staffs, quarter staffs,
maces, batons, nets, garrotes; not to mention the cutting and
stabbing blades - no dachi, ko dachi, naginatas, spears, hunting
knives, hand axes, sai, and katanas. The most surprising to the young
boy was the collection in the far left corner of obviously more modern
devices; what looked to be various grenades and unidentifiable
electronic gadgetry.
Seeing his charge's perplexed expression, Kogara ratified the
oddity. "Yes, as you can see, we also try to keep up with the times a
little. Shinkasa will never bear such devices as guns and explosives,
but smoke grenades, spying and observation equipment are within
our bounds of use."
Ranma, despite his apparent rejection of weapons was already
bouncing around the lines of racks, occasionally fingering one or the
other and marveling at their simple design and beauty - a reflection of
the martial arts they were crafted to be used with.
Amused, Kogara was murmuring his command, trying to suppress a
most inappropriate smirk. "Choose a weapon, though not too heavy -
you are perhaps a little small to be handling that 6 foot no dachi, but
name any combination and we will begin your training."
Ranma was now sorely tested. His past revulsion forgotten, he had
absolutely no idea where to even start. How to choose from these
hundreds? "I, uh, master Sensei I think I gotta take some time to, you
know, kinda make up my mind?" He paused for a moment scratching
the back of his head.
"HAVE to take some time, Ranma, and stop using 'you know'."
*Maybe we should extend his language tuitions perhaps?* Kogara
continued, "Anyway you needn't worry, I won't be teaching you
anymore for now, so you have until maths and history class to
decide." He hesitated for a moment. "Ranma for heaven's sake put
that no dachi DOWN! You'll lop off your head trying to swing that like a
broom stick. Be reasonable and accept your size and weight."
"Hai sensei." Ranma reluctantly returned the Japanese great sword
into its sheath.
*************
Back in the town of Hashima, 3 members of the Shinkasa guard were
stealthily stalking one unsuspecting martial artist who was currently
re-wrapping a cloth over his bald pate. That it was broad daylight was
only a minor encumbrance - the only differential being that instead of
donning the ninja's black, they were dressed in more conventional
wear, cut-off shirts, slacks, and workmen's boots. And shuriken,
maces and clubs as well.
"How long do we have to complete the task, sempai?" Kuranami, the
shortest of the 3 queried to her commander.
"Another 5 hours at least - plenty of time to find a suitable opportunity
for a quick and quiet operation."
The third snorted gruffly, "Too much time - we could take that fool
now, what with him squatting like that over that well waving his fat
arse up in the air."
His leader's reply was brusque. "Taunt not your betters. Fat arse or
otherwise, he is still a formidable martial artist, and most likely your
superior in pitched combat."
"If I wanted pitched combat I wouldn't have chosen the ninja's way."
Their leader was unsure whether that statement was an affirmation of
the ninjitsu style or an excuse for shirking combat practice, so he
reverted to familiar territory. "Daikoto, you of all people should never
forget our creed."
The object of his scrutiny groaned inwardly as his sempai repeated
the saying for the umpteenth time. "The enemy is always aware, and
his strike is always deadly..." Behind the reciting man, Kuranami
was silently mouthing the words in unison. "...the skilled ninja
strikes once only with speed, skill and stealth." Without even turning
the sempai playfully backhanded the girl behind him. "And I will brook
no insolence from you, you foolish whelp."
Kuranami grinned, Samatoru Sempai may have been a bit of a
stickler for form, but he was fun to work with.
Seeing their target again moving off on his business, the three once
again melted into the background populace, and resumed their hunt.
*************
Kagora was back in his most favourite place in the entire House - his
dojo. Passed down since the origins of the Clan's stay at Yamakoro, it
was one of the five original buildings, a legacy of the five individuals -
2 sisters and 3 brothers - who were said to have founded the
Shinkasa Clan. In those early days, the term 'master' was only ever
held by 5 people at any one time - the generational sire of the original
founders. But times had changed (he considered it for the better),
and there were some sixteen masters including himself. Any who held
the title were given the honourary surname of Shinkasa, but for
Kagora personally it was a superfluous title - he and his daughter
were direct descendants of Shinkasa Matoka, the second eldest
lady of the original five.
Currently this master was reminiscing about the future, and more
accurately on a particular pigtailed ninja to be. Despite Ranma's
obvious talent and great potential, several of the other masters had
been leery of integrating the child into the Clan matrix. It certainly
wasn't an uncommon occurrence - three quarters of the current
members were not related by blood. The main point of
disagreement was that no matter what the boy was taught, it was
clear that he would always be a practitioner of Anything Goes. To
cautious people this was a risky gamble. Kagora hadn't been the only
master with a personal history that involved a certain grandmaster
Happousai, and none of them knew what the ramifications of stealing
away his heir would be. Even Ranma's public renouncement of his
heirship to the Mutsabeto Kakuto Ryu (which he wasn't going to do anyway)
would aid him little - Happousai cared little for form or honour, so
long as he got what he wanted. And if he wanted Ranma, it was believed
there was little that any could do to stop him.
Because of this Kagora had been prohibited by unanimous
agreement (he agreed with it himself) from revealing the greater
secrets of Ninjitsu - amongst these were the numerous holdings
Shinkasa possessed throughout Japan, what the ninjas actually 'did'
for a living, and perhaps most significantly - the ties that all initiated
ninjas held with the springs of Jusenkyo. *Yes, it is inevitable that he
discover that last one - I can only hope that the other masters trust
his honour when he discovers our secrets.* Compared to the 'popular
legends' of the ninjas, Shinkasa were amongst the most well-
behaved Clans in history - but they could be totally ruthless when
dealing with betrayers. Kogara had no fear of killing, and it galled him
internally to recognise that if Ranma were to betray the clan, he would
have no hesitation in ending the boy's life. Somehow that felt like a
betrayal of Ranma's trust in his sensei.
Kogara's thoughts were interrupted by a shy, "uh, excuse me
master?" He looked up to see his kohai standing cockily before him.
The master noted inwardly that Ranma had managed to sneak up to
within 10 feet - a cause for a little concern. Ever since they had taken
him in, Ranma's unconscious personality had manifested tiny
elements of neko - miniscule to be sure but a sure enough sign that
the masters would soon have to deal with the Nekoken, whether or
not Ranma was emotionally prepared for it. His catlike silence was
only a further indication that time was running out before he would
permanently be unable to control himself in front of felines.
Turning to more present matters he inquired pleasantly, "I take it you
have come to your decision?"
The boy nodded. "Uh, can I learn more than one weapon sensei?"
Kogara smiled, "Yes, if you feel up to the extra work of course." That
was hardly a necessary comment - the master knew well that his
student NEVER backed down from a challenge. Still, he was
surprised when the young boy stepped out for a moment, and
returned with a bo-staff, two sai (Kogara personally approved), a
bandoleer of shuriken, and a katana.
Though he was reluctant to curb the boy's obvious enthusiasm, it
seemed Ranma was perhaps acting a little optimistic. "I think it'd be
wiser to start with a single tool not so?"
Ranma's face fell, and adopted the puppy dog look, but the enigmatic
ninja master was not so easily cowed. "An hour ago you were
cringing at the thought of holding a weapon - why the sudden
change?"
"......" The pigtailed boy's face screwed in concentration. How
to describe the break he needed to prove to himself that he had
moved beyond his father's teachings. 'Pops' had taught him to fight
without combat weapons. He had also taught him to steal, to 'defend'
himself from the innocent, to leave his friends and family in the
constant quest for excellence. Ranma NEEDED to learn a weapon
technique to move beyond his past.
Unfortunately, a child's vocabulary couldn't express that kind of
feeling, and Kagora thankfully didn't press the issue. "How about you
just choose one of them and we'll start from the beginning, hmmmm?"
"Hai sensei." Was it just him, or was that becoming an all too
automatic response? Deliberating for a few moments he eventually
reached down and selected the katana. "I'll start with this one, if that's
okay."
"Ah, the samurai's katana. Incidentally, do you know that Meyah is the
master of the katana? She is more skilled with the blade than even
me." He hesitated, as if considering. "Would you consider having her
tutor you in the katana's use?"
Ranma looked on doubtfully. "M-Mom's gonna teach me to fight with
a katana?" he found it hard to equate the woman who cared for him
and cooked his meals with a blade flashing sword master. "Bu-
but.."
"You'd be surprised at her skills - I'm sure your martial artist's eyes
can sense the speed in her reflexes, not so?"
"Yes, b-but she's, well.."
"Well what? A woman? Come now Ranma I would think you'd have
gotten over that mentality by now. You certainly have been defeated
often enough by girls." He smirked at seeing the boy's wince. "If you
have no other objections then you will begin this afternoon."
Ranma sighed, "Hai, sensei."
The boy quietly stepped out and headed towards his maths class.
***********
It was when Genma Saotome took a moment to re-arrange his
undershirt when the trio struck. Kuranami was the first to attack,
dropping in front of the man just as he raised his head from his
ministrations. All he managed was a startled "Huh?" before she
launched a flat foot kick to his chest, knocking him back whilst at the
same time forcing the breath from his lungs. He had no air to shout a
cry for help (not that the townspeople were inclined to do anything), as
the other two silently fell to with their round head maces, making short
order of his consciousness. In less than 5 seconds they had loaded
him into sack and tossed the bundle into the back of a wheeled cart.
Grunting as she hoisted her rope to pull the cart back to Shinkasa
house, Kuranami silently complained. *This is the part I really hate.*
Daikoto was inclined to agree when he viewed the long journey back.
There were two many upsloping roads for his liking. Such was the
burden of living on the side of a mountain. *What I wouldn't given for a
sturdy horse, or even a donkey.* Glancing over to bulging sack he
cursed quietly, "Stupid fat arse."
***********
Ranma yawned blearily as he stepped out of the history lesson and
headed towards the lunch house. There was little he regretted in his
new life at Shinkasa House - the regular food and warm beds, not to
mention the security of a caring 'family' was certainly a pleasant
change from the cold, often wet life he had endured on the road with
only an obsessed father for company. But still he could have done
without all the schooling. At his age, with so much to learn in the Arts,
the 8 year old saw little use in being able to recite the names of past
Japanese emperors, or the twelve times table.
As he collected his lunch - a bento of rice, beef and steamed greens
(plain but filling fare) - Ranma was joined by his regular companion,
Iyarasora Lano. The pigtailed boy's outsider origins and rapid rise to
the grey bandanna, not to mention his unofficially privileged position
as Shinkasa Meyah's 'son' had done little to improve his social
popularity. It was hard for boys (and girls) his own age to befriend
somebody who was never allowed to spar with them because he was
considered too good. Ranma's opponents were usually two or more
years older, and they too didn't relish being occasionally defeated by
a junior. The overall result was that the boy was largely left to his own
devices - the others were either too awed to approach him or too
resentful.
Lano was an exception. Taken into Shinkasa care after his only
parent was killed in a mining accident near a clan outpost, the young
Korean knew only too well the feeling of being an outsider, ostracised
for his race. The relationship was beneficial to both - though Ranma
was well used to solitude, Lano's presence was a welcome change.
For Lano, he had a friend who wasn't even aware that there was a
racial difference (and wouldn't care anyway). Within the clan,
discrimination of any form was frowned upon, but many of the really
young were too na�ve to recognise the evil. Everybody was courteous
to the Korean boy, but there was a difference between pleasant
acquaintances and friends.
"Heya Ranma, I've gotta new form I wanna show ya," he opened,
"maybe tonight?" Like Ranma, Lano had been trained in the arts very
nearly as soon as he could walk. His exotic regional tae kwon do
appealed to the Anything Goes practitioner, who especially found the
wide variety of kicks in Lano's style very attractive.
"Sure, I'll see you around, say seven thirty? Near the west training
pool?" he replied. That would give him enough time to properly finish
dinner. At the other boy's nod of agreement, he added, "Ya know I'm
gonna be learning how to wield a katana from now on."
Lano viewed him with upraised eyebrows. "I thought the high and
mighty Anything Goes heir never never never ever..."
"Yeah yeah, shaddup," Ranma gruffly interrupted, to which Lano
laughed good naturedly. "But that's not all, you know my Mom's
gonna be teaching me?!"
Lano's comment was studiously unemotional. "I'm not surprised,
Master Meyah is the best swords..er woman in the house. You
should be honoured to be so singled out."
"Yeah, but...well.."
"Ranma, have you actually seen her in a duel before?"
His reply was confused, and he unknowingly reached back to scratch
his pigtail. "No, not really. Mom's always been, you know, like
cooking or cleaning or..."
Lano eyed him in disbelief. Noticing the look, Ranma protested,
"WHAT?? Look I know she's a good martia. ahhh that is ninja, but
for Kami's sake, she's my Mom!"
"Well, I guess you'll have to get used to the idea of me as your sensei
as well Ranma dear." A voice commented bemusedly from behind
the pair. The boy yelped and leaped 15 feet into the air (literally)
totally forgetting in his fright that at the time he had previously held a
bento in his lap. Unfortunately its remaining contents were spread
evenly amongst a group of rather disgruntled diners. Raising his
hands in apology, he managed a sheepish, "uh, like sorry about that
guys."
Meyah was still silently dwelling on the physical prowess her charge
had just unconsciously demonstrated. *Maybe the time of the
Nekoken is drawing sooner than we expected.* It was a subject she
had been procrastinating upon - as her skills in the healing arts
would undoubtedly be required when the time came to break Ranma
of his phobia.
Returning to the here and now, she spoke to her child, "Forget the
rest of that lunch - you eat too much anyway." Ranma shot a glare at
a giggling Lano as he was led out of the courtyard. As they
disappeared from view, Lano could hear the slowly diminishing
complaints. "But Moooom, if I don't finish I'm gonna be....oh
alright...GOING to be hungry until dinner." "I eat so much cause I'm a
growing boy and I work hard at the art. If you want me to be a good
ninja I gotta get a...HAVE to get a decent lunch" "No Mom, I'm not
patronizing you, I don't even know what that means." "Awww jeeez not
more language lessons."
Lano had to stuff his face with rice to stop from falling into hysterics.
***********
Meyah tried to suppress her pleased expression as she again eyed
the weapon Ranma had chosen to master. Of course the fact that he
had inadvertently taken up the blade she personally favoured was a
sign of his good taste (of course). That they would both share this
similarity would only bring the pair closer together. *And besides it
will give me the opportunity to personally change that irritating
attitude towards women.*
"Now Ranma, it will be several weeks at the very least before you are
allowed to wield steel. At your age and level of experience, you could
easily lop off something vital to yourself. A properly crafted katana
can be VERY sharp." She demonstrated by drawing forth her own curved
blade. For their first lesson only, she had taken her favourite katana -
one of an identical pair (the expert swordmasters generally wielded
two blades). It wasn't one of the Shinkasa ancestral blades, but the
sword which had been melded by her grandfather - and presented to
her at her ascension to the masterhood by her own father. It was a
rarity in its construction - being crafted in the 'kanekoto' style, where
hundreds of paper thin strips of metal, each hammered out to a satiny
consistency had been molded together, layer upon layer until a blade
of reasonable thickness had arisen. Fired and cooled maybe several
hundred times, such craftsmanship required absolute purity of
materials and welding - even a pinhead sized air bubble could have
weakened the temper into uselessness.
But the rewards for her grandfather's interminable patience had, at
least to her eyes, paid off. He had in addition used more than 4
elements to build the blade - added to the standard steel and
chromium that made up all katanas, there were strips of tungsten,
carbon, and titanium. Of course to Meyah, the metallurgy of her
favourite weapons were of minor concern - what she saw was a
superbly balanced, light and wieldy sword with a very wicked cutting
edge. It was perhaps the only constant in which she had absolute trust
that it would never fail her in a battle.
Such a blade was now being wielded to make a very important point
to one katana trainee. Without a word, she reached into her bag of
'goodies', and retrieved a sheet of typing paper. Crumpling it into a
ball, the swordmaster deftly tossed it high. At its arc towards descent,
the sword flashed, and the ball was abruptly halved. Ranma marveled
at the cleanliness of the cut. His awe at that particular act was short
lived, as a hefty wooden block was given the same treatment. Then a cement
block...then an iron support bar - all severed cleanly in mid-flight.
That last one really drew his attention. "M-mom, how the
hel.ahh..how did you do that?" he stuttered in amazement.
"Oh yes, that reminds me. Now that I am your tutor, you are to call me
either sensei or Master between sunrise and sunset. Just as I do so
with my own father, we ignore issues of blood relations in pursuit of
the art."
"Ah, okay. Hai sensei", he sighed. Ranma had been hoping to avoid
having to say that to his mother too.
"Good, and in regards to your question - that's something you'll
hopefully be learning in a year or two - if you train hard enough."
Seeing his defiantly stubborn expression Meyah had little doubt that he
would need any further motivation. "Now for the first task. The basic
swing. You will strike this post here, then here then there." She
gestured toward a training post driven into the soil before handing
him a wooden practice bokken. "Striking with a sword puts a greater
shock upon your muscles than unarmed punching - and you'll need
several days to build up the resistance. Since it's your first day, we'll
go easy - say 500 strikes on the right, then 500 on the left - then
repeat three times. Alright?" She smiled sweetly at him.
Her student groaned inwardly, "Hai sensei." That smile on her face
would have been positively evil - if it weren't for the fact that she
wasn't that kind of person - or so he thought. Trying to remember that
ancient time when his father had first introduced him to Anything
Goes (and finding that he couldn't), Ranma steeled himself to begin
once more from the beginning. He swore to himself then that he
WOULD master the sword - if it was martial arts, then he could do it,
and be the best.
The pigtailed boy raised his bokken, and began to count. "One!"
*Hack* "Two!" *Hack* "Three."
***********
Iyasora Lano was taking a sip from the fountain by the training pool (it
was forbidden but, he was thirsty), when his friend weakly stumbled
into view - wallowing too much in self pity to be bothered by issues of
stealth and secrecy like a proper ninja. Ranma flopped wearily next to
his grinning companion. "What're you smiling at?" he snorted
disgustedly.
"Oh I don't know, just somebody I know looks like he just lost a fight
with one of them Mack trucks." Lano's grin remained unfazed.
"Yeah yeah shaddup" Rubbing his arm tenderly, the abused boy
groaned melodramatically. "Behold the casualties of the merciless
swordmaster Meyah."
"That bad huh?"
"You're telling me? She made me smack this useless post with a
bokken six thousand times. SIX thousand times. And she made me
count every one."
Lano shrugged. "Well, I guess she just has high expectations of you.
Though it's no great surprise. Rumour has it old man Kogara wants you
to carry on his line's style of blade fighting."
The pigtailed boy looked confused, "What, you mean like an heir?
But what for?"
"Ranma, all of the masters here have their own special styles,
techniques, and arty farty thingys. And all of them are just as anxious
to nab a masterful prot�g� such as yourself (the object of his praise
huffed in distaste at the title), so they can fob off all their special
skills
onto the next generation."
Ranma reached to scratch the back of his head, but aborted the
attempt when a variety of muscles complained bitterly at such
treatment. Wincing at the effort, he murmured, "Well it's not like I ain't
grateful for their confidence in me - but if only it didn't hurt so much.
Anyhow, sorry that I can't spar with you tonight. You can show me your
new technique tomorrow."
Lano's eyes gleamed calculatingly, "Does that mean you're backing
down?"
"Huh? No of course not! I'm just choosing not to fight
cause....cause...awwwww shaddup."
The Korean folded his arms in self-satisfaction. "So you're backing
down huh? After all this time.."
Ranma's eyes narrowed, "I know what you're trying to do, and it ain't
gonna work."
Lano remained motionless, arms still folded. For a minute or two,
silence reigned the air waves.
"DAMMIT, co'mon let's get this over with."
Grinning, the Korean adopted a leaping crane stance.
***********
Kagora paced patiently in his dojo, awaiting the arrival of his 'guest'.
He was not disappointed as at a very punctual eight o'clock, Master
Hitoshi arrived leading a pair of ninjas (he identified them as
Samatoru Keda and Kino Daikoto) staggering under the hefty burden
of a man-shaped rice sack. Kagora resisted the urge to smirk as the
pair roughly dumped the bundle upon the floor and relieved the
currently inactive martial artist of his covering. The ninja master
smiled gratefully towards the fellow master of the guard. "Thank you
master Hitoshi, I take it I owe you a favour now, not so?"
"No you don't. Get rid of this Genma permanently, and you'll have
done us all a favour." He signaled towards his ninja guards, and
swiftly headed out. As Kogara watched the trio exit, he caught the
faint mutterings from the one rubbing his shoulder, something
pertaining to "fat arses" or similar. Shrugging it off he turned towards
his guest, reaching for a handy cup of water and doused the bald
man into a groggy awakening.
"Ahhhhh, my head..too much sake again," were the first audible
words. All at once, it seemed that Genma suddenly became aware of
his surroundings to leap into a defensive crouch.
"You have little need to fear, Saotome Genma, if I wanted you harmed
I needn't have gone to all the trouble of bringing you here," the master
stated calmly.
"I wouldn't doubt it," Genma almost spat in disgust.
"It is unwise to taunt your enemy in his lair." He excused the slight for
the moment. "In any case, allow me to introduce myself. I am
Shinkasa Kogara, master apparent of Clan Shinkasa, and you are
currently standing in the middle of my dojo which is in the middle of
the Clan house." The last point was for the benefit of any possible
thoughts of escape his guest might have been considering.
"I don't care who you are - I demand to have my son back." Genma
was either unaware or uncaring of the precarious position he was in.
"What for?" Kagora almost scoffed. "So you can starve him, sell him,
or maybe engage him to a few dozen more girls?" He ignored the
man's stammered response. "Oh yes, we know all about your thieving
and conning background - not really that surprising considering your
own 'Master'"
Genma visibly cringed at the mention of THAT particular man (if he
could be called a man). He tried to regain his crumbling argument.
"Nonetheless, you have no right to steal him from me - he's not a
ninja, and will never be if I have anything to say about it. He..he's MY
son, and I can do with him as I please. I won't have him raised by a
band of cutthroats and murderers."
"You know, if it weren't for the fact that Ranma would object greatly,
I'd be sorely tempted to just have you simply disposed of. It would
save everyone who has encountered you a world of trouble. You say
you can do as you please with your son - does that include throwing
him into a pit of starving cats? Yes, remember that incident, Saotome
Genma, all those months ago?"
This conversation was not going as the martial artist would have
liked. "H-How did you know about that?"
Kagora's reply stung with sarcasm. "Oh I'm not really sure - how
about a half terrorised mentally insane, under-nourished 6 year old
boy wallowing in the street - but of course.he was acting very cat-
like at the time. We just 'thought' it might be the work of some
sadistic sensei." If his daughter were here she would have been
shocked by her father's totally uncharacteristic demeanour.
To himself, the Saotome patriarch muttered. "stupid weak and
cowardly boy - knew I shouldn't have trusted him to learn the Catfist
like a proper martial artist."
That was when Kogara, to coin a phrase, lost it. Quicker than the eye
could even trace let alone the body react to, he had hurled the heavier
man into the air where he crashed into a ceiling support rafter. What
was most terrifying to the cowering martial artist however was that
Kogara's tone remained totally even and neutral. "You will remain
silent, else I'll hand you over to my daughter. Knowing her love for the
son you are totally undeserving of, she'd make slow work over you
with her katanas" (for some inexplicable reason, Genma cringed
even more, if that were possible, at the word 'katanas'). The ninja
master's voice was as menacingly calm as ever. "Yes, I'd most
certainly do that, but not before I broke the bones of your arms into a
powder - and I could easily perform that task in such a manner that
you couldn't even scream for mercy."
Kogara stepped back from the huddling heap, his eyes never
wavering. "If you value your life any more than I do you will remain
silent for what I have to say. Until Ranma leaves our care, or unless he
so requests he will NEVER be returned to you. I know not under what
creeds or beliefs you follow that led you to torture your own blood for
the sake of the Nekoken, but it is your son that must pay the price.
Until such time that the boy is able to control it, for the sake of the
people he will have to be isolated from society. Do you even realise
what you created, Saotome Genma? All it takes is a single persistent
house cat and that innocent 8 year old child can become a beserk
almost unstoppable killing machine."
He paused for breath. "I can see by your face that you have no idea of
what I am talking about. I don't know why I'm wasting my time telling
you this - but innocent people have DIED because of the Nekoken.
Its....its last victim massacred more than fifty persons in a freak
incident with an alley cat, before clan healers could finally cure him.
And the child was all of seven years of age. Perhaps when you see
somebody you love and cherish have her face torn off by a Nekoken
claw you will truly understand. In any case, Shinkasa are the ONLY
people with the necessary skills and knowledge to cure your son, and
I'll be damned to hell if I let that opportunity slip away."
Picking up the trembling figure by the scruff, a man nearly thirty years
his junior, Kogara roughly shoved him out. "One of the guards will
show you the way. I hope not to see your face here ever again. If you
are lucky enough though, Ranma may eventually come to forgive what
you have done to him. Now get out." Without turning to see his guest
depart, Kogara slammed the sliding door shut. Alone at last, he stood
trembling in the centre of his beloved dojo, taking deep breaths to
calm himself. Suddenly feeling very old and very tired, he held his
head in his hands. The old master hadn't lost his temper in decades,
and he had sworn to himself that he would never again. He hoped
sincerely that nobody had been close enough to hear.
As comforting hands slid around him from behind, Kogara realised
that even this hope had been denied. He didn't need to turn around to
identify the comforter - in all his time, only one person would have
been able to remain undetected for so long, and approach so closely.
"I really wish you hadn't heard that side of me, daughter." He really
couldn't have cared less that it was outside regulations to be calling
her that.
"Who was it?", she asked quietly.
"Excuse me?"
"Who was it that you loved, that fell to the Nekoken?"
His reply was bitter with long suppressed anguish. "I never did tell you
how your grandmother, my mother, died did I?" He tore himself from
her grasp. "Please, Meyah, I wish to be alone."
"As you wish Master Kagora." Before she left, she turned silently. At
her last view of her father, he was staring almost bewildered at his
own hands, fingers flexing spasmodically.
Meyah had seen that gesture on another several months ago.
***************
Sensing her departure, Kagora silently padded over to his desk,
reaching for a granite paperweight. Tossing it lightly into the air with
his left hand, he casually drew back his right and swung at it - fingers
missing it by a good two feet. Nonetheless the rock crumbled into
gravel and chips. He stared hollowly at the fragments. *I will not let it
happen. I WILL not.*
-*"before they could finally cure him."*
***************
Ranma lay quietly upon his futon staring at the intricate patterns of the
natural lines in the woodwork. He was dwelling on what Lano had
informed him before their duel. Both Master Kagora and Meyah had
chosen him and him alone to learn their own special styles - they had
taught no one else besides each other. They had deemed him worthy
of the honour to bear the Shinkasa art.
*Worthy.*
Silently, the boy arose, ignoring his aches, not to mention the
additional overlay of bruises his match with Lano had procured. That
Korean was getting pretty good - not good enough to beat him, but
still a worthy challenge.
*Worthy of the honour.*
Reaching onto the dresser, he drew out the bokken and stepped into
the adjoining meditation glade. Ranma had learnt three katas today,
and Master Meyah had given him a week to perfect them. Crouching
catlike, the ninja held the wooden blade before him and began to
practice.
**************
Meyah floated wearily into her quarters, despondency robbing her of
her usual grace. She became very awake when Ranma's absence
from his futon was noted. Senses attuned, the swordmaster twisted
her head around, trying to detect the sounds of his passage. At 11
o'clock, Ranma ought to have been snoring away by now.
She was about to leave her rooms in search for him, when the flicker
of moonlight on moving wood caught her eye. There he was prancing
about like a gazelle spinning the bokken in complex patterns around
his twisting form. Meyah recognised the basic defensive kata she
had rigorously ingrained into her student that afternoon - but already
thoroughly perfected and heavily integrated into the water flowing
grace of Anything Goes. She felt a shiver run ominously down her
spine as his wooden blade passed silently through a stone statuette
that adorned the centre of the garden, severing the head. He didn't
even notice - seemingly as oblivious to the world as his bokken was
impervious to physical obstructions. Ranma made no sounds as he
danced - none whatsoever, as if he were immersed in his own private
vacuum. Meyah realised ambiently that she had finally found
somebody more attuned to the art of silence than herself. She was
terrified by that thought.
Respectful of that silence, she crept away, her own noises now
amplified a thousandfold to her ears. The Shinkasa master realised
then as well, that she had picked the wrong animal to equate her
charge's gyrations to. There was a much more suitable beast.
*No, definitely not a gazelle.*
*************
*************
*************
Author's Notes.
I should add that I don't consider this to be a dark story - maybe
serious, but not dark. In case you are wondering just where all the rest
of the Nerima gang are, fear not their time will come in due course. I
just like to work really hard to establish Ranma's personal story. More
to come soon. Is the story going to slowly for your tastes? I just like
detail.
You can find the rest of my works at
http://members.xoom.com/dojohouse
and email: dojohouse@xoommail.com
Generic statement.
Comments and criticism are always welcome (flame me if you
must), but I won't accept any ethical stuff from people who hate any
particular love match ups which may or may not occur in this series.
I personally don't really have any objection to any possible girls
Ranma could end up with (although Ukyou is my personal
favourite) - no don't cringe I also like Akane/Ranma,
Shampoo/Ranma etc. ones too, but I've gotta have a favourite.
Every new fanfiction I write will have a different match up (assuming
that is there is any match up at all). If your particular pairing hasn't
come up yet, then tough rocks - I'll get to it.
Incidentally some things to note.
Ninjitsu is the term to describe the 'art of the shadow warrior', or the
ninja, just as kenjutsu is the art of the kendo (katanas, bokkens etc.)
Kohai is a term referring to a junior of a kohai/sempai partnership. Whilst
not strictly appropriate here it was a little late in changing.
Naginata is a staff of about 5-7 feet atop which is afixed a very sharp
curving blade (looks like a fat machete)
Bo-staff is just a wooden staff with two handgrips towards the middle
Ko dachi is a short sword. And yes, the Black Rose's name does
mean 'short sword' As a ninja weapon it may be attached to the wrist
with a rolled up elastic cord, so that it can be thrown forward twenty
feet or so, then retracted.
No-dachi is a Japanese heavy longsword - about six feet long
Sai is a stiletto shaped dagger about an arm's length in size. It
conventionally has a large hilt which points forwards in the direction of
the blade.
Garrote is a weighted cord used for strangling enemies (it is thrown).
Some versions have a ball positioned strategically to crush the throat
or neck.
Kanekoto. This method of making a katana actually exists - but I'm
not sure if that is the exact word for it.
Katana is a traditional combat sword - some versions conflict about whether
the 'official katana' is straight or curved - but I take the curved version.
It is generally a two handed slicing blade, but ninjas have been known to
wield two. It's size can range from 3 to 5 feet or so.