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 naïve 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 naïve 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 protégé 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.