Nate came to a halt in front of a tree. He leaned against it, trying to
recover his breath. His heart was still racing furiously. He'd been running
so long. Just a little further now.
He didn't like at all the way his legs were shaking. He wanted to say that
it was the exhaustion, but he knew that fear was contributing as well. You're
a cop, dammit, he thought to himself. You've faced down drug addicts and
other people too stupid or too strung out to know the value of human life.
You should be able to fight this.
The images of his friends dying, though, were burned too brightly into his
mind. He was alive only because he could run faster and farther than... than
whatever that thing was. And because he had left some of his friends to die.
"Leave, Nate!" Karen was lying on the ground, gasping in huge breaths. She
had to yell to be heard over George's screams. "I'm done, I can't go any
farther. Get to the station, let them know what's happened!" She stared into
his eyes, her fear giving way to resignation. "Do it!"
Nate squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out the memory. Karen was a
good hiker, but she hadn't been a good runner. He *had* made better time
running through the woods without her and George holding him back. He had to
be close now, perhaps a mile or so away.
Something came crashing through the underbrush a hundred yards away. Nate
drew his gun in a flash, although it had already proven useless.
It was that thing. The funny thing was, the thing looked remarkably like a
young college student. She was dressed in normal outdoor gear, and he could
easily have imagined her with his hiking buddies. However, her eyes were
opened wide, the pupils huge. A pink froth dribbled down her chin. It looked
as if she had been pushing herself well beyond the limits of her body to
keep up with him. She ran stiffly towards him.
Panic rising in his throat, Nate fired off two more rounds. As before, they
seemed to evaporate in the air about two feet from her. He wished that he
had a laser of some sort; that might have gotten through.
He turned and started running again. He should never have stopped. He hadn't
thought that thing was so close. He had to get away.
Something grabbed him. He didn't know what, or how, but he couldn't move.
He was turned around. The thing was still about twenty yards away, but she
had one of her hands raised at him. Somehow she was doing this to him. She
moved slowly forward, to stand three feet away.
"A most amusing chase." Her voice sounded raw, as if she had been screaming.
"I respect strength. I would use you, but really I am still too weak. Your
essence should be enough for now. Then I can bring in others who will work
for me. Already I can feel the lines of power, and where they lead. I will
pull at them and see what follows. It will all work because of you, and I
thank you for that."
Nate thought of one last act he could do, something that might put a dint in
this thing's plans. He brought his gun up to his chin.
Before he could finish the act, pain coursed through his body. His muscles
locked. His fist clenched, and he did fire a shot, but his arm had jerked to
the side during the convulsion, and the bullet shot uselessly into the air.
He felt something draining from him. Something he didn't know he possessed.
Whatever it was, he needed it. He screamed as it was ripped from him. He
wanted to live, he wanted to die so that he'd stop feeling the pain. He was
useless and weak, and in the end, he'd been hunted down very much like the
scum he'd arrested over the years. He was no better than they. He was a
failure.
And then it became too hard to think, and he contented himself with listening
to the thing's laughter.
***
You have to believe we are magic;
Nothing can stand in our way.
You have to believe we are magic;
Don't let you aim ever stray.
And if all your hopes survive,
Your destiny will arrive
And bring all your dreams alive
For you.
I'll bring all your dreams alive
For you.
Magic
by Richard Lawson
Comments & Criticism Welcome!
sterman@sprynet.com
Nouma frowned at the computer screen. The answer was so close, he could feel
it. He paged up and down between two sections of code before finally opening
a second window and displaying both sections at once. He picked up a pencil
from the desk and started tapping it on his lips, his mind furiously at work
trying to get the two parts of the program to work together without flooding
the CPU assigned to them.
It would be nice, he thought, if he could get time from another CPU. Director
Miyagi, however, had made it clear to each team that they would only get
one CPU to run their code, and they had damn well better make their code work.
Miyagi-sama would be able to get this to work, Nouma thought to himself.
I should be able to as well. An idea sparked the fires in his brain; maybe
there was a way to share the computations. If the CPU could process two or
more requests for computations simultaneously, perhaps with a multi-variable
equation, then each section of code could examine the output and grab the bits
relevant to their respective requests. If it worked, Nouma could cut the CPU
requests by 25%, maybe even 40%. An algorithm sprung to mind; if he could
take the derivative....
The vid chose this particular moment to buzz at him. Nouma frowned at it in
irritation. Not now. He considered ignoring it, but the display indicated it
was from Assistant Director Nakimura. With a sigh, Nouma slapped the receive
key. Nakimura's image appeared on the screen.
"Tendo-san, the CEO is arriving in a few minutes to see you."
Nouma's eyebrows rose. What did the CEO want with him? Nouma grimaced; he
could guess.
His grimace wasn't lost on Nakimura. "Tendo! None of that. I want you at
the elevator in ten minutes to greet the CEO."
Nouma's irritation rose. "Nakimura-san, you know how the CEO feels about - "
"Ten minutes!" The vid screen blanked.
Nouma sighed. Nakimura was of the old school that was given to excessive
displays of respect. Miyagi-sama did not hold well with such displays, but
he was visiting another lab in Okinawa today. Nakimura was taking advantage
of his absence to give the CEO a "proper" greeting. Nakimura meant well. Nouma
knew, however, how the CEO was likely to react.
Nouma looked at his code displays with regret, then shut them down. His mind
still buzzing with the direction he wanted to go with the new code, he made
his way to the elevator.
The entire division was there, as Nouma knew they would be. They mulled around
uncertainly until Nakimura commanded them to be still and silent. After an
uncomfortable wait, the elevator doors slid open. Everyone except Nouma bowed.
Nakimura mumbled a very polite, loquacious greeting.
As Nouma had predicted, the CEO looked extremely irritated. "Enough, Nakimura.
Send everyone back to work; we don't have time for such nonsense."
Nakimura flushed as he rose. "I only meant to offer the respect you deserve."
The CEO glared at Nakimura. "I demand respect. I can't abide obsequiousness."
The CEO turned away from Nakimura and gestured at Nouma. "Let's get out of
here."
"Yes, Aunt Nabiki." Nouma made his way past the stricken Nakimura and into
the elevator.
The doors slid shut as Nabiki continued to fume. "I can't see how such a
sycophant can exist in our organization."
Nouma spoke without thinking. "He's a good man. He's just a little too
caught up in the old forms."
Nabiki gave him a thoughtful look. Nouma rolled his eyes ever so slightly.
He had a reputation within the Tendo family for being an excellent judge of
character. He wasn't sure how much of that was true and how much of that was
his father's inflated opinion repeated as fact. It had the effect of having
everyone react to Nouma's opinions as if they were judgments set in stone.
He thought Aunt Nabiki above such nonsense. Her ability to uncover a person's
true nature was legendary. She should certainly be able to see through the
hyperbole. "Don't just take my word for it, Aunt Nabiki. Ask Director Miyagi.
He'll tell you."
Nabiki smiled. "I have long ago learned not to interfere with Miyagi's
operations. He does just fine, and he reacts poorly to what he terms
'bureaucratic nonsense'."
That brought up another question he had always wanted to ask Nabiki. It came
to his lips, but went no further as he considered whether it was a polite
thing to ask. Nabiki saw his dilemma, and smiled. "You're going to ask me
how I got him to accept you as a programmer, aren't you?"
Nouma blinked, then chuckled. "I should know better than to hide things from
you, Aunt Nabiki."
Nabiki's eyes gleamed. "Yes, you should." The elevator doors slid open and
they made their way through the lobby. "It was the biggest fight Miyagi and
I have ever had - and we've had some classics. He adamantly refused to take
part of nepotism. It was only after I showed him your college records and some
examples of your programming that he agreed to try you out. I think it's
worked out well."
Nouma nodded. It had worked out. Nouma had very quickly come to respect
Director Miyagi for his exceptional intelligence - and Nouma accorded few
people such respect. Miyagi, for his part, had been very hard on Nouma, but
no more so than he was on any of his employees. After Nouma's first few
projects had been completed, Miyagi had given him a sentence of praise. That
sentence had meant more to Nouma than any accolade he had received in college.
Nouma and Nabiki left the building, but Nouma balked when he saw the limousine.
"I'm supposed to meet Ranko for lunch, Aunt Nabiki."
Nabiki grimaced. Nouma allowed a touch of amusement to color his features.
Nabiki saw, and managed a wry smile. "All right, let's go. I suppose you're
going to meet at that awful hamburger place?"
Nouma smiled. "She likes their milkshakes." He turned down the street, and
heard Nabiki order the driver to wait before she followed him.
They entered the restaurant. Ranko was already seated at a booth, and she
waved enthusiastically at them. Nouma always had the same reaction to Ranko.
She reminded him so much of his father's female half, except Ranko had black
hair. She was twenty-three, the same age as Nouma, and they'd spent a lot of
time together growing up. "Nouma! Nabiki! Over here!"
Nouma looked over at Nabiki and saw her eyes wince slightly. To have someone
nearly twenty years her junior address her with such familiarity still irked
her. Technically, Ranko had the right to do so. She didn't have to, but did
it mainly to tease Nabiki. Nouma kept strictly out of it, but secretly found
the entire situation very amusing.
They made their way to the booth. Ranko had already placed Nouma's lunch in
front of him; she knew what he liked. Nouma looked over at Nabiki. "Auntie,
can I get you something?"
Nabiki looked at the hamburgers with disdain. "No thank you."
Nouma bit into his hamburger while studying Nabiki. She still wore the same
haircut he had seen in her high school pictures. She was almost as slim, and
her features looked almost the same, if a little worn. Her hair had no
gray in it, but Nouma was almost certain she dyed it. He didn't begrudge her
the vanity; she did have an image to maintain as the Chief Executive Officer
of Tendo Investment Enterprises.
Ranko finished her lunch quickly, and slurped her milkshake while she, too,
studied Nabiki. "It's been a while, Nabiki. You should come over for dinner
sometime. Mom misses you."
Nabiki snorted softly. "I don't see why. Your mother always got along much
better with Akane and Kasumi. She and I hardly ever spoke."
Ranko frowned, and Nouma could sense her attitude change from amused teasing
to an earnest desire to make Nabiki understand. "Don't be like that. Mom
likes you, too. You helped out my brother as much as anyone else did. Mom
knows that, and appreciates it. She sees how much you watch out for the
family." Her emotions shifted once again, back to teasing. "Who else would
give my worthless nephew a job?"
Nouma, in the middle of drinking his soft drink, almost gagged. He quickly
swallowed and started laughing, throwing a french fry at Ranko.
They laughed together a minute, and even Nabiki smiled. Finally, though, a
serious look crossed her face. "Nouma, we need to talk."
Nouma sobered, and looked at her with something approaching trepidation. "Yes,
Aunt Nabiki?"
She leaned forward to look Nouma in the eye. "Will you be coming to the dojo
tonight?"
Nouma kept himself from grimacing; how had Nabiki known that he was considering
not attending? A satisfied look came into Nabiki's eyes; he knew that she had
seen in his eyes that she had guessed correctly about his reservations. He
allowed admiration for her abilities to read his thoughts to show. She smiled
ever so slightly, amused but also letting him know that she was serious about
making him attend. Nouma quirked a corner of his mouth; he didn't want to go,
but he couldn't refuse both his father and Aunt Nabiki when they both applied
pressure to him. Nabiki's smiled widened, relieved and gratified that he
understood.
This ability to converse without words was something he could only do with
Nabiki. It went right over Ranko's head. "Of course he's coming. The entire
family's coming, haven't you heard, Nabiki?"
Nouma shared an amused glance with Nabiki before turning to Ranko. "I wasn't
so sure about coming."
Ranko looked at him in surprise. "What? No one can refuse Ranma's summons."
Nouma frowned. "Dad chose to lead a certain kind of life before I was born.
I didn't chose it. I've gone on a couple of his adventures. I found that
they weren't to my taste. I've got my own life now; programming is ever so
much more satisfying than martial arts. I don't see why I should allow myself
to be dragged into that lifestyle again."
Ranko's eyes were very wide. "But... you can't! I mean, my brother is
depending on you so much...." She trailed off, unsure how to convince him that
he needed to be there.
Nouma sighed. "Don't worry, Aunt Ranko. Aunt Nabiki has already convinced
me. I'll be there."
Ranko looked at Nabiki in surprise. "Oh?" She frowned, then smiled. "That's
good."
Nabiki raised an eyebrow at Ranko before smiling back. "Now that that's
settled, I'll be going back to the office. I'll see you both this evening."
Nabiki indicated that they should stay in their seats as she got up and left.
Ranko watched her go, then turned to Nouma. "I don't understand her at all.
She scares me sometimes."
Nouma smiled. "She scares everyone sometimes. That's what makes her great."
Ranko shook her head. "You like everyone, Nouma. I don't see how you can do
it."
Nouma laughed. "I don't like everyone. I just understand them. As it
happens, Aunt Nabiki is my second-favorite aunt."
Ranko smiled at him coyly. "And who's your favorite aunt?"
Nouma blinked at her in mock surprise. "You mean you don't know?" He smiled
innocently at her. "Aunt Kodachi, of course."
Ranko growled and threw a packet of salt at him. Nouma laughed. Ranko was so
light and playful; he couldn't spend any time in her presence without cheering
up. She reminded Nouma of Aunt Kasumi and Grandmother in that respect, except
that Ranko had a lot more energy and wasn't above being malicious in her play.
Nouma let himself get caught up in Ranko's high spirits. It allowed him
to not think about the feeling he was getting that after tonight, he'd be
sucked right back into Father's curse.
***
Nouma stared thoughtfully at the front gate, and considered the problem of
getting from it to the front door.
He decided to scout around first. He jumped to the top of the wall surrounding
the Tendo home and examined the front yard carefully. Nothing out of the
ordinary could be seen, but that didn't mean anything.
He dropped to the ground inside the yard, bracing for an attack. It didn't
come, so he slowly and carefully began stepping towards the front door, not
getting out of his ready position. After two steps he changed direction,
took two steps and changed direction again, moving in a slightly random pattern
but making his way inexorably to the front door.
To his surprise, he was able to walk to the front door unchallenged. He sighed
in relief; maybe the days of those challenges were past. He opened the front
door.
Something shot out of it. It hit him squarely in the chest, and he flew
backwards. He landed in the yard, with a teenage girl astride his chest, her
hands pressing his shoulders to the ground.
She smiled wickedly at him. "You've gone soft, Brother."
Nouma tried to catch his breath while studying Mikanma. Everyone said that
her face looked remarkably like their mother's at the same age, except for the
piercing blue eyes. Her build was much like their father's: slim and athletic.
She wore her black hair in the same pigtail Father had worn at her age,
and had even taken to wearing the same Chinese silk shirts he had favored,
orange instead of red.
Nouma grabbed her wrists and lifted her hands away from his shoulders. She
spun her hands out of his grasp, grabbed his shirt, stood up and flipped
backwards at the same time, heaving him into the air. Nouma flew through the
front door to land in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
Nouma slowly stood, trying to recover. He was widely considered to be one of
the best martial artists in the world - his father had seen to that - but what
no one outside of the Tendo clan yet knew was that Mikanma had more skill by
far. Her speed and strength were almost frightening, and she was wonderfully
creative in her technique, discovering moves that even Ranma hadn't
considered. She hadn't yet beaten Father in the dojo - Ranma quite simply
*was* the best martial artist in the world - but the day was not far off when
she would be able to claim the title for herself. And she was only seventeen.
Mikanma was leaning against the door, smiling at him. "Pop is going to eat you
alive. I told you that computers don't make good sparring partners."
"Yeah, so you did." Nouma rotated his wrist, and decided that it wasn't hurt
too badly. "You're just lucky that Mom didn't see you do that."
"Didn't see you do what?" Nouma and Mikanma both flinched at Mother's voice.
She stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them with an annoyed look
on her face. "Did it have something to do with that crash I heard a moment
ago?"
Nouma kept silent, not wanting to lie to Mother and not wanting to get Mikanma
in trouble. Unfortunately, Mikanma was quite adept at getting herself into
trouble without any outside help. "Nouma and I were just practicing, Mom.
He let himself be thrown through the front door."
"I see." Akane's voice sounded skeptical, and no less annoyed. "And was
your brother asked before he participated in this 'practice'?"
Mikanma scowled. "Pop is always saying you have to ready for anything during
a fight. I'm just keeping Nouma on his toes."
"Don't refer to your Father in such a disrespectful way." Akane was getting
angry. "I want you to go and clean the dishes, and think about whether or
not your brother and your father deserve a little more of your respect."
Mikanma swallowed her retort, then slumped her shoulders. "Yes, Mother." She
stalked down the hall towards the kitchen.
"Honestly, that child inherited all of your father's worst traits." Akane
sounded quite exasperated, as she often did when dealing with Mikanma.
Nouma looked up at her. "She inherited all of the best as well, Mother."
Akane looked at Nouma from the top of the stairs. Nouma was strongly
reminded of a time when he was seven, when Mother had glared at him from the
top of these very same steps after he'd managed to break the front door in
an overly-enthusiastic attempt to open it with his feet. She was a little
heavier than she had been then, and her face was a little softer. Her hair
was sprinkled lightly with gray, and she looked every bit the forty-two year
old woman she was. It didn't stop her from springing down the stairs and
grabbing Nouma in a bear hug. "It's good to see you, Son. I was a little
worried that you wouldn't come."
Nouma struggled out of her grasp; she still had remarkable strength when she
chose to apply it. "Aunt Nabiki made sure I'd be here."
Akane smiled. "Good for her. I'm glad she keeps her eye on you as well as
her own children." Her smile faded, and she looked at Nouma seriously.
"Everyone else will be here in another hour. Your father wants to see you in
the dojo right away."
Nouma closed his eyes and wondered when the family gauntlet would end. He drew
a breath and opened them again. "Yes, Mother."
She seemed to understand and smiled. "Sometimes I get fed up with it as well,
Nouma. I'm glad you chose not to let it dominate your life like your father
and your sister have." Once more, she lost her smile, and this time a worried
expression crossed her face. "It's different with your father this time.
Something has him extremely worried, and it's making everyone tense. Go to
him. I think he needs your help now more than ever."
Nouma studied Mother closely, aware for the first time that she was very
frightened. Akane had gone through some harrowing experiences over the years;
whatever had her *this* scared must be remarkable, indeed. He leaned forward
and gave her a gentle hug. She clutched at him, not as strongly as before but
still fiercely enough for Nouma to know that she needed this reassurance from
him.
They separated. Akane smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek before
going towards the kitchen. Nouma imagined that Mikanma was in for a bit of a
lecture right now.
Nouma shook his head to clear it, then made his way to the back yard and into
the dojo.
Father was in the center of the dojo, sitting cross-legged and meditating.
Nouma watched him from the edge of the dojo. The remarkable thing about
Ranma was that he seemed to have stepped out of time. He looked to be in
his early twenties. Nouma often had trouble convincing people that Ranma was
his father; most took him to be his brother. Father's agelessness didn't
bother Nouma that much - he'd grown up with it, and it seemed to be as normal
to him as did the fact that his father changed gender frequently. It
frightened some people, to the point that Ranma seldom left the dojo these
days unless he was going out on one of his quests.
People had been striving for explanations for years. The fact that he was a
martial artist who kept in top physical form seemed to be an obvious answer.
However, there were several people his age who also kept in top form - Ryoga,
Tatewaki, Kodachi, and even Akane - and they showed every indication that they
were aging at the same rate as the rest of the world.
Another theory was genetics. Although Grandfather Saotome looked every bit
as old as he was, Grandmother had aged remarkably well. Nouma had seen
pictures of her taken when she was pregnant with Ranko, and she had looked to
be ten years younger than she was.
Most people accepted a combination of the two theories - physical conditioning
and good genes - to account for Ranma's young features. Nouma had trouble
accepting any of the theories. No matter how good the genes and the
conditioning were, forty years of sun, wind, and gravity did things to a human
body. Ranma didn't have creases around his eyes, and his skin, while not
smooth, was still tight and completely without wrinkles. This just wasn't the
body of a forty-two year old man.
It was while he had been sharing these observations with Aunt Kodachi that she
had provided an alternative explanation. "If I recall the story your father
told me, the Guide told Ranma that whoever fell into that pool took the body
of a young girl. Right?"
Nouma had nodded.
She had continued in that lecturing tone she used when leading Nouma in a
logic exercise. "Notice that he said 'young girl'. Not 'girl' or simply
'woman'. He implied that there was an age factor. It would be logical to
assume that being young is as important to the curse as being female."
Nouma had thought about that. "So, okay, why isn't he young only when he's
female? Shouldn't his male side be aging normally?"
Kodachi had pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Hmm. Perhaps it has something to
do with how your father has internalized and accepted his curse. It's so much
a part of him that it affects his male side as well. Then again, maybe the
curse is making a certain concession to reality; it's easier for Ranma to do
what he does if both sides of him can be seen as mature, but still young."
Nouma had frowned. "You make the curse sound almost sentient."
Kodachi had laughed. "We're trying to apply logic to magic, and it doesn't
always work. We don't know enough about the underlying assumptions to make a
truly coherent picture, so we have to postulate things that sound somewhat
ridiculous. If you go back to early theories about atoms and molecules,
you'll see some very intelligent people make guesses that, today, seem
ludicrous. They were only doing the best they could with the limited amount
of information available to them. We're doing the same here."
Nouma was forced to agree with her analysis. What she said about the curse
made sense. It just felt right to him, and he couldn't exactly say why. He
still wanted to know more information about it. One day, he planned to go to
China and interrogate the Guide about how the magic of Jusenkyo worked.
Ranma opened his eyes and smiled at Nouma. Nouma smiled back; it was always
good to know that both of his parents were always happy to see him. Nouma
wasn't so good at returning the favor. He made a mental note to try and be
happier when he saw his parents. He knew they missed him, and he shouldn't
feel embarrassed by their displays of affection whenever he came to visit.
Ranma stood and took a couple of steps back away from the center of the dojo,
still facing Nouma. Nouma stifled a sigh and took a position opposite Father.
They bowed to each other, then assumed the ready position.
Fights with his father never went the same way twice. Ranma had so many moves
and tactics in his repertoire that he was utterly unpredictable. This time,
he leapt straight at Nouma, his fist pointed directly at Nouma's head.
Nouma dropped to his back and attempted to propel his father towards the wall
with his feet. Ranma grabbed Nouma's ankles and more or less fell on top
of Nouma, as Nouma was able to brace himself enough to prevent Ranma from
doing anything useful with his hold.
Nouma used his legs to put a scissors hold on Ranma's stomach, at the same
time trying to give him an uppercut to the jaw. Father pulled his head back,
grabbed Nouma's shirt, and quickly rolled, slamming Ranma to the mat. The
jarring blow caused Nouma to loosen his scissors hold ever so slightly, but
enough so that Ranma broke free of it and sprang to his feet.
Despite the fact that his head was still ringing a little bit, Nouma rolled
away from Ranma several times before turning the roll into a cartwheel and
landing on his feet. Nouma and his father began dancing their way closer to
each other, circling each other warily around the dojo.
Father spoke as they spiraled in to each other. "You're doing pretty good
for someone who gave up the art."
Nouma grimaced, keeping his eyes on Ranma, still awaiting an attack. Father
was holding back a little, he knew. If this had been a real fight, Ranma would
have been able to knock him senseless in less than thirty seconds. He was
just trying to test Nouma, seeing what his form was like. "I never said I was
giving up the art, Father. I'm just not devoting my entire life to it, is
all."
"Yes, so I've heard." Ranma feinted an attack, but Nouma didn't allow himself
to be baited. "Nabiki says you're doing quite well in your new job. She
likes to tease your mother, asking her who your real father is."
Nouma couldn't help laughing; that did sound like Aunt Nabiki. She had a high
opinion of her own intelligence - an opinion that was justified, in Nouma's
estimate - and had little tolerance for people who didn't measure up to her
high standards. Nouma met those standards, just as Ranma didn't. Nouma
thought that was a little unfair of Nabiki. Ranma's intelligence was obvious
in the way he reacted to the world around him, responding to it quickly and
creatively. He wasn't so good at strategy - the rational, analytical planning
that happened before a battle. However, he had no equal in tactics - responding
to changing conditions in battle.
Like, for instance, now. As soon as Nouma began laughing, Ranma attacked.
Nouma was slow to defend, and found himself flying across the room, his
father's foot the last clear image he had before he crashed into the wall
twenty feet away.
Ranma wasn't through with him yet; as Nouma pushed himself back to his feet,
Ranma was directly in front of him. His fists began to fly, and Nouma had
no choice but to block them. Ranma was still holding back, Nouma knew. Ranma
began slowly increasing the speed of his punches, and Nouma strained to keep
up.
"Your sister was able to surprise you, Nouma. You were sloppy."
Nouma grimaced again; nothing got by Father when it came to martial arts. "I
suppose I was. I let my guard down before I was actually inside the house."
Ranma looked at him curiously. "I never asked why she decided that you would
not be allowed into the house without first getting by her."
Nouma smiled, trying not to show how hard he was trying to keep from Ranma's
punches from getting through. "I think it's because she still can't believe
that I beat you in the dojo. She can't beat you, and she doesn't understand
why. She keeps trying to find some secret technique in me that she hasn't yet
seen."
Ranma winced at the mention of Nouma's victory. "She didn't have Kodachi
helping her plan the attack."
"Aunt Kodachi's offered to teach her the same things she's taught me."
"Maybe it's just as well Mikanma refused. That wasn't a very nice strategy
that you and Kodachi came up with."
Nouma chuckled, and regretted it instantly at one of Ranma's punches nearly
connected. "You yourself have taught me to discover your enemy's weakness
and use it against them."
Ranma's attack slowed for a second as he shuddered. "You might have carried
it too far. You know what can happen to me in those circumstances."
"Well, that's tactics. The strategy was to expose you to your weakness. The
tactic was to make sure you didn't get so exposed that you needed Mother to
bring you out of it." Nouma smiled. "You've got to admit, it worked pretty
well."
"Yeah." Ranma grinned at him evilly. "You beat me once. Just once."
Nouma lifted an eyebrow. "You've told me before, once is all it takes."
Ranma laughed, then increased the speed of his punches. Nouma stopped
talking and used all of his concentration to try and keep up. In the end, it
was futile. The only who could keep up with Ranma's speed was Mikanma, and
although Nouma would pit his hand speed against anyone else in the
world, he was only third-best in his family. One of Ranma's punches got
through, then another, and then Nouma's defense collapsed as a hundred punches
connected to his midsection. His breath left him, and he fell to his knees
as his father stepped back.
Nouma had almost forgotten how painful training sessions in the Tendo Dojo
could be. They never went easy on each other during training. None of his
father's punches had been pulled, and Ranma was as strong as he was fast.
If Nouma hadn't kept himself in top physical condition, he'd need a stretcher
right now if he'd wanted to leave the dojo. This was, he realized, his
father's way of ascertaining the state of Nouma's martial arts. In a way,
despite the fact the he felt like someone had used a jackhammer on his ribcage,
Nouma had won. He'd passed Ranma's scrutiny.
Ranma stood over him and applied a couple of pressure points, something he'd
learned from Uncle Tofu. Nouma's breathing eased, and he allowed his father
to pull him to his feet.
"You're not as bad as I thought you'd be, Son."
Nouma leaned against the wall. "High praise from you, Father." He looked over
to the clock on the wall. "We still have some time before everyone arrives.
Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"
Ranma sighed and leaned against the wall next to Nouma, facing him. "We'll
get to that when everyone arrives. I have other matters to discuss with you."
Nouma raised his eyebrows. His father's tone was extremely serious. There was
none of his usual banter in it, and Nouma felt his stomach tighten in
anticipation of whatever was to follow.
"Son." Ranma seemed to be struggling for the correct phrasing. "You know
how much I wanted you to further your martial arts training."
"Yes." That was an understatement. Ranma had been very upset when Nouma
had moved away from home to go to college, so soon after his victory in Cairo.
Ranma had always felt that Nouma had so much more to learn - he'd barely
scratched the surface of the chi-attacks that were available to him. Nouma
had flatly refused to learn anything more, concentrating on his studies. "I
felt - and still feel - that there's stuff outside the field of martial arts
that is as satisfying, if not more satisfying, then learning more and better
ways to defeat a hypothetical enemy."
Ranma's eyes narrowed a bit. "The enemies are not so hypothetical to me."
Nouma nodded. "I know that, Father. I'm not trying to invalidate your
experiences. I just want to partake of a different lifestyle."
Ranma rubbed his forehead and smiled wryly. "Sometimes talking to you reminds
me of your Uncle Tatewaki. I get the same headache trying to follow you."
Nouma smiled himself. Growing up, he'd always had fun listening to the way
Uncle Tatewaki talked. He'd begun to imitate it as he got older. He
eventually grew out of the phase and spoke more or less normally. He'd have
relapses occasionally, especially when he was involved in serious discussions.
"Sorry, Father."
"No, don't be sorry. I'd sure hate it if you talked like me." Father smiled;
he had a particular gift for mangling the language. He'd gotten marginally
better at using and pronouncing words correctly over the years, but not
before Mikanma had picked up the habit, much to Akane's dismay.
Ranma drew a breath, then looked at Nouma with a completely serious look on
his face. "OK, here it is. I want you to follow in my footsteps."
Nouma's jaw dropped open. He stared at Ranma for a few seconds before
answering. "You can't be serious, Father. Mikanma's twice the martial artist
I am, and she's still getting better. She wants to inherit the dojo. I
certainly don't feel like teaching the art to anyone."
Ranma shook his head. "No, listen to me." He sighed and gazed off into
space, evidently trying to work something out.
He nodded and focused once more on Nouma. "You're right, Mikanma is a better
martial artist than you are. You and I both know that you'll never match her
skills, or mine. You're still one of the best martial artists in the world.
That's why I sent you to Cairo; not just to prove it to the world, but to have
you prove it to yourself.
"You're also very smart. Smarter then me or your mother. Smarter than your
sister. You've got just about everyone I know beat. I'll bet if you were
somehow able to corner Nabiki into a comparison, she'd admit you're smarter
than she is. So okay, you're not Einstein. You've still got the rest of us
idiots beat handily. Kodachi's trained you well; you can apply your
intelligence very effectively. That's how you beat me. Again, you and I both
know that, with a little time to prepare, you could defeat your sister in
combat.
"Everyone I talk to tells me how nice you are. I've had people compare you to
Kasumi and your grandmother, and that's saying something. You're compassionate,
helpful, friendly, and slow to anger. I still don't know how you could've
learned those things in this household." Ranma quirked a smile before
sobering again. "I'm glad you did, though. It makes you much more likable
than I ever was.
"Your best asset, though, is your judge of character. Even when you were
little, you could tell good people from bad people in an instant. We used
you to hire our babysitters; if you smiled at them, they were okay. You can
see into people's souls, find out things about them just by the way they
talk. I don't see how you do it. Nabiki and Kasumi are the only other ones
I've seen who can do something like that, and they are just amazed by how
deeply you can look into a person's heart.
"If you add this all up, Nouma, it makes you out to be one of the most truly
remarkable people in the world." Ranma leaned forward a little bit, driving
his point home. "I've been asking about you, if you haven't figured it out
already. I wanted to know everyone's opinion of you, to see if it matched
my own. Everyone says the same thing: you are the finest human being they
know."
Nouma absorbed all of this numbly. He didn't exactly have a low self-image;
he knew he was a good person. He never thought of himself as being truly
exceptional, however. Mother had always told him that, but he had always
judged her opinion to be highly biased. He'd do the same with Father's
opinion, except that Ranma's serious tone told Nouma that this was not just
idle praise. Ranma was building up to something.
Ranma examined his face carefully. He spoke one more sentence, slowly.
"It was always my intention that your sister inherit the dojo."
Nouma blinked; if that was the case, where was all of this leading to?
It came to him in a flash. Something akin to horror washed over him. "No."
Ranma raised his hands. "Think about it for a few days."
Nouma's voice got just a little louder. "No."
Ranma shook his head. "Don't get mad, please. We'll talk some more about
it after the meeting."
"No!" Nouma was trembling in anger and shock. "What're you gonna do, take
me to China and dump me into a pool at random?"
Ranma winced. "No, nothing like that. I said we'll talk about it later."
Ranma had been right; Nouma was slow to anger. Once he got going, however,
he was hard to stop. "You chose to lead that kind of life, Pop! You coulda
ended the curse, you coulda led a normal life. Instead, you decided you
wanted to spend you life fighting all sorts of strange stuff all over the
world. You may call that satisfying, Pop, but I don't! I call it a screwed-up
way to live, and you ain't gonna drag me into it!"
Anger crossed Ranma's face. He cupped his hands. A ball of chi-energy three
inches in diameter appeared. It flew from Ranma's hands and struck Nouma in
the chest, staggering him. Nouma winced, closed his eyes and bit his tongue.
Ranma's control over chi forces was truly remarkable. Nouma was capable of
many chi-attacks, but he didn't have nearly the fine control his father had.
Ranma, meanwhile, was talking angrily. "I want you to know, Son, that if it
wasn't for the curse, I might not have married your mother. Think about that
before you start mouthing off to me on how terrible the curse is."
Nouma drew a couple of deep breaths, then opened his eyes. He looked over at
Ranma, his anger gone. "I'm sorry, Father. You're right. The curse itself
isn't a bad or evil thing. It's just... I don't want to be a part of it."
Ranma studied him closely. Something drained out of him, and he couldn't
keep a look of disappointment off his face. "All right, I understand, Son.
You're right as well; it isn't all fun and games to be cursed like this."
Voices could be heard from the house, talking excitedly and loudly. Ranma
looked at the dojo door. "They'll be coming in here soon. Please greet them
for me; I want to go get ready for my presentation."
Nouma looked after his father as he made his way to a screened-off area towards
the back of the dojo. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "Why?"
Ranma stopped, facing away from Nouma. "It's beginning to frighten me. Not
for how dangerous the quests are, but for what it's doing to me and your
mother. She deserves better than this." With that, he disappeared behind the
screen.
Nouma stared after him, shocked comprehension flooding him. Ranma was worried
that the curse would keep him looking like he was twenty-five forever. Akane
was getting older, and Nouma had noticed the strange looks his parents had
received when they'd held hands together in public, or exchanged a quick kiss.
Akane, being human, couldn't help being jealous of Ranma's resistance to
aging. If this kept up, the curse would end up poisoning Mother's and Father's
relationship. Ranma recognized this, and wanted to be done with it before
it went too far.
Nouma paled. Could he let his selfish desires to lead whatever life he wanted
to come in the way of his parent's happiness? He had an obligation to his
family. Then again, did that obligation extend to becoming cursed? Nouma
had idly wondered, in the past, what it would be like to become a woman like
his father always did. Somehow, the fact that it might actually happen made
Nouma shudder. Surely Ranma could just end the curse without passing it
along to someone else, couldn't he?
Nouma knew the answer to that. Ranma took his duty as protector of the world
and savior of lost causes very seriously. He would consider it a tremendous
stain on his honor to forsake that duty without appointing a successor.
The weight of this knowledge nearly crushed Nouma. Duty to your parents.
Duty to the world. Duty to one's self. How to balance these things? Nouma
had no idea.
Nouma closed his eyes. He strongly suspected that whatever was about to
happen, the quiet, peaceful, happy life he had known recently was going to
vanish forever. He silently watched it begin to slip away, and mourned its
passing.
