A Ranma 1/2 Alternate written by Jarred Mitchell and co-authored by
Fernando A. Pena.
Note: Mr. Pena asked me to write the story, since he liked my writing
style for some reason. As such, I have also incorporated some of my own
ideas with his. Included are some personal notes on the story I have at
the end. Thanks.
The wind whistled through the trees as well as the runners� ears,
accompanied by their labored breathing. Sweat poured down them, cooling
them quickly, considering the chill that pervaded the early morning.
Light from the sun was only then starting to peek over the towering
mountains of China that surrounded them. They were sprinting up a hill
from the obscure premise called training, only half an hour away from
the camp they�d struck. They would run for a time, train, then eat
breakfast. It was a daily ritual they�d enjoyed for the previous ten
years.
Quick combinations of strikes flew between the two. Genma grunted under
the impact of one well-placed punch. He retaliated, using one of his
underhanded tricks to lure Ranma�s defenses down. The boy, even after
all the time he�d studied with Genma, was subject to such stunts. Or
that�s what he thought, anyway.
Ranma picked himself up from the ground. Quickly dusting off, he raced
up the hill after his father, intent upon giving as good as he�d just
gotten. They reached the top, both breathing heavily. Looking back,
they found that the hill was more like a small mountain, rather. There
was a grove of trees nearby. They angled for it, unlimbering their
backpacks. Setting the heavy packs aside, they squared off.
Ranma thumbed his nose at Genma as he got into a familiar attack
stance. Their forms blurred as they leaped into the air at each other.
The sound of tortured flesh resounded throughout the area.
Genma was feeling weary. It had been coming upon him more of late. One
entire side was felling sluggish. Circling Ranma, he found that he�d
been maneuvered near a steep descent. More like a cliff, rather. Ranma
pressed his advantage, driving Genma back. The two didn�t consider such
a sheer drop to be a problem, so it wasn�t much of a concern.
"Come on, boy. Is this the best you have this morning?" taunted Genma.
"You�re askin� for it, Oyaji," was his reply.
Whipping around from a particularly vicious strike to the shoulder,
Genma landed on one knee and battled Ranma from there. Grunting with
the effort, he made it to his feet once again. Ranma�s face was set in
a mask of grim concentration. He was taking his training seriously that
morning. Performing a roll, Genma found himself only a meter from the
edge. But he didn�t want to show weakness to his son. He�d taught
Ranma that showing weakness during a fight would be your downfall. And
he wouldn�t have Ranma see him showing any of that. Gathering his
resolve and clenching his teeth, he mounted a hasty defense.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain all along his left side. It was
excruciating. His arm went limp, opening him to an attack by Ranma.
The young man, not understanding the problem, thought his father was
only trying to trick him once more. With a few quick, decisive hits to
Genma�s torso, the older man fell over the edge.
As soon as Genma cleared the edge was the time that Ranma realized that
something was wrong. It was the way that Genma was falling. He didn�t
seem to have any control of his descent, which wasn�t normal for him.
The two of them had taken up an intensive training on how to avoid any
injury while descending steep declines. Leaping forward, he reached out
to Genma.
But it was too late.
The cry of �Oyaji� from his son followed him down.
The sound of bones snapping from the tumble and rocks rolling over the
body reached Ranma. His stomach rose into his throat. Frantically, he
searched about for anything that might help. Finding none, he began his
descent to the body of his father. Upon reaching the inert form, he
prodded the body. Pulling the debris away, he rolled his father over.
His alarm grew to new heights as he sought out vital signs, finding
none. Nausea overcame him when he found the worst thing that could have
happened. Genma�s neck had been broken during the fall. Turning away,
Ranma began retching. Since they hadn�t eaten, he dry heaved for
several minutes.
There was his father, one of the strongest men he knew, whose blood was
on his hands. Anguish rose up for the old man, for he had been his
companion, teacher, nurturer. The blood pounding in his ears drowned
out the keening wail that he emitted from his throat. Gathering the
body up into his arms, he vaulted up the hill to where their packs
were. Laying the limp form down on the rough grass, he tried to think
of what to do from there.
>From the higher vantage, he looked about for the closest village. Smoke
was rising more than a few hours travel away. Actually, it was rather
close. The only problem was the fact that there were so many hills in
between him and the village. That hindered the traveling, even for his
abilities.
Looking at the body of his father, he felt a wave of guilt wash over
him. It was all his fault. If he hadn�t pressed so hard, Genma might
have had a chance.
The realization slowly came to him that there was nothing he could do.
He was out in the wilderness with the closest village several hours
away. And there was no way he could mend a broken neck. As much as he
wished he could, there was no way he could do it.
There was one thing he could do, though. Gathering himself, he
approached the copse of trees that stood nearby. Genma would get a
proper Japanese cremation. That, at least, he could do.
It took him only an hour to gather enough wood and make a proper pyre.
With his advanced martial abilities, he was able to knock down trees
and, somehow, chop them up. He�d been lucky enough to find a couple of
trees that were dead and dry. Having Genma smolder for the next few
days didn�t appeal to Ranma. Stacking the logs was the easy part, as
well as placing his father on the pyre. It was harder, however, to
start the fire. After a few false starts, he finally managed to gain
enough resolve to finish what he�d started.
As the fire crackled, memories started flooding Ranma.
None of the bad things came to the fore. Or any of the other zany
things his father had tried out on him. Rather, it was the times that
they trained together in the predawn. Like that day. The morning air
was crisp, taking one�s breath away because of the chill. That was the
exhilarating part of the training each morning. The simple life had
been looked over so many times. It was those times that one lived for.
The comforting presence of someone you knew well and cared for. Even if
his father had disappointed him on occasion, it hadn�t driven him to
seek someone else out. There had been opportunities, but he�d discarded
them. It had all been about him and his father on the road.
They�d visited may dojo during the years. Challenging the students from
each one had helped with Ranma�s evaluation of opponents, learn new
techniques, or practice them on someone. Genma had picked some of the
finest. His own evaluation of was excellent and had wanted Ranma to
have an unerring sense when faced with an opponent. He was glad for
that fact. There were other times that his father had had a valid idea
that had worked like it was supposed to.
Like the time he�d stubbed his toe the first year of their journey. His
father�s words echoed to him. "Pain is all in the mind." They�d taken
it to the next level. After some intense training, Ranma had been able
to master his body enough so that he didn�t feel pain as keenly. He
felt it, but was able to tone it down to the point to where he could
shelve it for another time.
And there were other training techniques that had worked. Like the
cliff training. They�d nearly broken their necks multiple times, but
that had been half of the fun. Leaping up to dizzying heights and then
coming down afterwards had been exhilarating.
And now it was a fall that had killed his father. Something that they�d
trained to avoid. And it was all Ranma�s fault.
He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking the tears that threatened to flow.
Men didn�t cry, his father had told him multiple times. And he wouldn�t
dishonor his father�s memory by doing so. Gaining control of himself,
he watched the fire die down to embers. There was nothing left.
Picking up the emptied canteen that would act as an urn, he scooped up
the remains of one Saotome Genma. He would take the ashes of his father
back to Japan. That was the least he could do. After having finished
his task, he turned to the packs lying near the trees. There was no way
he could carry both back. There was no reason to, really.
But there were a few things that he had to get out of his father�s.
Putting the canteen into his own pack, he pulled his father�s over to
him. With a disconsolate sigh, he opened the pack. The most pertinent
things to Genma�s daily survival were on the top. That was a given.
Nobody wanted to look through all sorts of things in order to find what
they used daily. Discarding everything of no use off to the side, he
got down to some serious rummaging.
It didn�t take him long to find what he was looking for. The tanto that
his father had carried was a family heirloom, he�d been told. He
carried it as a reminder of promises. Not that he�d kept many, but it
was still a part of their past. And then he found the book he hated
most, the Neko-ken. Just reading the kanji on the book sent a shiver
down his spine. He started another pile. One with the things he would
take. It was much smaller than the one with what he would discard.
Then something caught his eye in the backpack. Pulling it forth, he
found it to be a scroll case. Opening it, he found that there was,
indeed, a scroll inside. He�d never seen his father with it, so his
curiosity got the better of him. Unrolling the scroll, he read.
As he perused, his breath started to become quicker and more shallow.
It described something that his father had only hinted at. The
Yamasenken. The dreaded techniques that his father had created and then
supposedly destroyed. It was mute evidence that such a fact was not
so. With great restraint, and shaking hands, he re-rolled the scroll
and placed it in its case. There would be time for him to inspect the
contents more thoroughly. Right then, he had to finish with his
sorting.
There were a few other things that captured his attention. But not for
long, since he had to finish his journey. They�d set out for a
particular destination and it couldn�t be interrupted, even with the
fact that his father had died. He�d been brought up with the fact that
one lived and died by the Art. Though it pained him to do so, he had to
continue. Genma�s death was his fault, but he wouldn�t belittle the
memory by discarding everything.
After an hour or more of sorting through Genma�s belongings, he was
finally able to continue. The currency he found was in limited supply.
It would help him in his travels. But, having been taught to be self
sufficient, the fact didn�t bother him at all.
Everything was packed and there was nothing to hold him there anymore.
The wind was scattering the remaining ashes. A good rain would cause
the scar to become less pronounced until, eventually, there was only a
memory of what had transpired. Looking back at the pack that he was
about to leave, he had the insight that he should have gone through
everything before cremating his father. Then, at least, he could have
sent up the pack with the other possessions. Just leaving the pack
lying about seemed unjust, but that was all he could do. At least it
was hidden away by the trunks and the tree litter.
Shrugging his pack onto his shoulders, he set out. There had been a
destination intended. Opening the pamphlet, he looked at the picture of
a serene valley. It was mist-shrouded with a multitude of pools
scattered about. From each sprouted a bamboo pole. Something that his
father had picked up on instantly. It would be a great place to
practice the Art of aerial combat, which was one of the Saotome�s
specialties. There were many kata that they had found and used. The
Jusenkyo training grounds would be the perfect place to work out with
them.
**********
Ranma walked up to the hut that stood near the cleft in the mountain.
It was a ramshackle affair, from what Ranma could tell. The entire
structure was made of uncut stone with a thatch roof. Very primitive.
There was only a leather flap, more like a curtain that served as a
cover to the entrance.
"Anybody home," Ranma called out.
After a moment of silence, he finally heard a groan from inside. He
took a step back. There was a scraping sound similar to feet dragging
along the ground and then the flap opened up. Revealed was a stout
Chinese man. His face was slightly swollen, beady eyes peering about
blearily. It was all due to his condition. Ranma held his hand up to
his nose, trying to keep from becoming sick because of the stench of
alcohol that wafted towards him.
The proprietor of the hovel said something in Chinese.
Not knowing any Chinese himself, Ranma pointed to the pass and asked,
"Jusenkyo?"
It took a moment for the fellow to even have a glimmer of understanding
of what was being asked. Finally, he nodded. Ranma smiled his thanks
and headed off while the drunk guide went back inside to drink himself
into a stupor once more.
It was nearing dusk by this time, so Ranma wanted to get some training
in before setting up camp. Setting his pack down several meters from
the first pond, he leapt up onto one of the bamboo poles.
The valley�s appearance had been captured exactly. A fine mist hung
onto the ground, giving the place an ethereal feel. Sunlight sparkled
on the springs. Added to the strange feeling was that the only things
other than water were the bamboo poles sticking out of each and every
one. Curiously, no grasses or weeds of any type grew out of the soil.
Only hard-packed earth surrounded the area. Trees and grasses only
began to grow nearly fifty meters from the closest edge.
Paying this no mind, Ranma began his preparations. Deepening his
breathing and clearing his mind, he focused on his martial arts. Once
he was mentally prepared, he began leaping between the poles.
His body flowed gracefully through the air. This was his element
entirely. His school worked mainly on aerial combat. Leaping higher
and higher, he began to clear treetop level. Not once did he slip as he
landed on a bamboo pole. Each kata he used melded into the next
effortlessly.
Losing himself in the Art, he never noticed that the daylight was
slipping away. Moonlight illuminated the mist, adding more to the eerie
effect. This never hampered Ranma�s abilities one iota.
Jump, spin, kick, spin again, flurry of punches, kick, land. Jump,
punch, grapple, flip, fling an imaginary opponent, land.
The kata went on and on. Several times, he was upside down and
fighting. Others, instead of landing on his feet, he used his hands,
leaping away with just his arms. He couldn�t quite reach the same
heights, but it was still impressive.
Eventually, he came to the end of the springs. Turning about, he headed
back to his backpack to go make camp. Landing beside the pack, he
suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine. Turning about, he suddenly
blanched at the sight before him. Taking a step back, he tripped over
his backpack, landing unceremoniously.
The mist that had been clinging to the ground was moving as if with a
life of its own. It rushed to the center of the springs, coalescing
into a serpentine form. Mesmerized by the sight, Ranma watched as the
mist began to form into a dragon. His mouth hung open in disbelief.
Picking himself up, he took stepped around his backpack and waited for
the beast to finish becoming corporeal. Standing on the edge of one
pool, his only apparent reaction was one of awe. He felt no fear of the
dragon whatsoever.
**********
Khu Lon was humming to herself as she watched the fire. Her old bones
were wrapped in a comforting shawl to ward away the night�s chill. Her
grandson was tending to the dinner dishes, as it was his chore until he
married. Sitting back, she puffed on her pipe.
All of a sudden, internal alarm bells rang inside of her. Her ancient
magic and martial abilities were saying that something was amiss.
Leaping out of her chair, she rushed outside. Looking about, she
spotted a glow on the horizon. Visibly unsettled, she went back inside
to her grandson.
"I�ll be back shortly, boy. If I shouldn�t return by daybreak, alert
the others that I�ve gone to Jusenkyo in order to investigate a matter
that has suddenly arisen," she instructed.
He nodded. "Should I go get my cousin, Xian Pu, to help you, Great
Grandmother," he asked.
With a shake of her head, she negated his idea. "If what I think is
happening is, then she will be of no help to me. Just mind the place
until I return." In between the blink of an eye, she was gone, hopping
on her staff.
This occurrence disturbed her greatly. Nobody had ever brought forth
the dragon in Jusenkyo for centuries. She felt it her duty to see who
was challenging the dragon.
**********
The dragon looked down at Ranma curiously. Raising one eyebrow, he
leaned forward for a closer look. ~You are a young one, are you not,~
echoed through Ranma�s mind.
The voice was thunderous, even if it was only a mental projection.
Falling to one knee, Ranma held his hands to his head, regaining his
senses.
Chuckling, the dragon continued less forcefully. ~My apologies. But
you have captured my attention. Normally, those that come to Jusenkyo
fall into a pool at some point. You, however, haven�t. Also of note,
you are not of this land. If I remember correctly, you look like one of
the islanders. Japan, perhaps?~
Ranma nodded. Aloud, he said, "Yes. I�m Saotome Ranma." Emboldened by
the dragon�s amiability, he continued. "My father and I were heading
here to work on the Art some more. What is it that�s dangerous about
this place? The only thing I see that would be dangerous would be a
quick dip into one of the pools."
Snaking his head even closer to Ranma, the dragon said, ~Ah, but to do
so would be dangerous. You see, I punish those that come here who fall
into each and every one of them. There are a few that haven�t been
fallen into, but that is of no matter. Then there are those that some
have drowned in. I�ve trapped their likeness, or soul, into the water
in order to punish any other interlopers. That is why these springs are
called cursed by mortals such as yourself.~
Gulping audibly, Ranma asked, "And if I had fallen into one of the
pools, what would happened to me?"
~But you didn�t, my dear Ranma. However, if you had, you would have
taken the shape or mental aspect of whomever drowned within one of these
pools. Now, it wouldn�t be permanent, mind. A simple dousing of warmed
water would change you back to your original form.~
Ranma shifted nervously about, taking one step back from the pool he was
standing near.
~I would entreat you to undergo a test, if you will. It has been some
time that another has challenged my valley here and I�m curious as to
whether you have the aptitude to pass a trial.~
Ranma understood the challenge for what it was. Pit his martial
abilities against the dragon. Granted, he was a great martial artist,
but everyone knew that a dragon was, is, whatever, one of the most
formidable forces to be reckoned with. Looking down at the pool in
front of him, he gulped again.
Catching onto Ranma�s internal plight, the dragon laughed
wholeheartedly. ~Do not be concerned with falling into the pools.
Should you fail, I will not punish you, for you have already proven
yourself on that account. However�~ The dragon paused, his eyes
flashing dangerously. ~Should you refuse to humor me, I might take
offense.~
One thing Ranma was not, was a coward. But the fact of the matter was,
he was out of his element here. With the recent death of his father,
caused by his own hand, no less, gave him pause. He had to take his
father�s remains back to Japan. With the guarantee that his safety was
assured, he had no worries of losing his own life or the ability to
return to Japan for the proper internment of his father�s remains. And
he didn�t know, really, whether the test he was about to take was one of
martial arts. If it was martial arts, he could do anything. But he
knew his limitations, too. Should it be something other than the Art,
he was seriously limited. Not to take up the challenge, by the dragon�s
implied threat, could also have dire consequences.
Standing straighter, Ranma looked the dragon in the eye. "Sure. Do
your worst."
Cheered by Ranma�s acceptance of a trial, the dragon reared back. With
a flick of one claw, upon each pole leapt a shadowy figure. Each one
was a warrior of one type or another. Most were Chinese, by the look of
their attire. Some were weaponless, while others carried weapons that
even Ranma had no clue were.
"What exactly am I supposed to do," queried the teenager.
~Why, fight them, of course. I shall implant a fighting style of one
type or another within your mind. Should you prove capable enough, you
will learn them in a matter of seconds. Use them on each of the
fighters here. Prove yourself able, you will defeat over one hundred of
these and I shall reward you accordingly.~
Looking up, Ranma saw that the pole in front of him was empty. Every
other one was occupied by a ghostly figure. He smiled to himself. This
was exactly the kind of challenge he could take up. Curious, Ranma
looked up at the dragon again. "By the way, you never did introduce
yourself. You know my name, but I don�t know yours."
Embarrassed at his lack of manners, the dragon scratched behind his
head. ~Oh, how dreadful of me. Why, my name is Ju Sen Kyo. The
mortals just call this place Jusenkyo after myself. I�d thought you
would have caught on. Ah, well.~
Ranma nodded. It was fitting, really, and he bonked himself on the head
for not having realized that such a thing would have been the case.
Shrugging to himself, he leapt up onto the unoccupied pole. "I�m ready
as I�ll ever be."
Ju Sen Kyo moved back from Ranma, giving the young martial artist room
to maneuver. ~You will have all the time you need to learn each move.
However, I do hope you don�t take too long.~ Narrowing his eyes, he
said, ~Begin.~
If the first time Ranma had heard the voice in his head was bad, the
force of having a move enter his head was overwhelming. Gripping onto
the bamboo pole with his feet tightly, he mustered enough strength and
willpower to hold on. Each and every movement he had just been given
was absorbed, added to his repetoir, and then internalized fully. His
muscles, conditioned to perform such movements, were prepared for what
he was about to demand of them.
It only took a full minute for the first mental image to be set up fully
within him. And that was only because of the lack of experience with
this particular form of learning.
At once, he was moving fluidly. Like water and wind, he flowed with
each and every movement. His body danced about from pole to pole,
fighting each of the opponents set up against him. The first move he
learned happened to deal with two of the figures. They were dispatched
with ease. A simple placement of a knife hand to one of their necks
sent the figure to the ground limply, where it dissolved into
nothingness. The other rocketed into the sky with a well-placed kick to
the chin. Landing on a vacated pole, he waited for the next lesson.
As he continued with the fighting, the lessons came easier. The weapons
he grasped were real enough. Though one or two grazed him, they
inflicted no real damage. It didn�t take long for him to start grinning
like a madman. Fully in his element, Ranma lost himself within the
challenge of proving himself one of the premier marital artists in the
world.
Meanwhile, Ju Sen Kyo watched with morbid fascination as Ranma proved
himself capable. He�d only seen a few others master his test. And
Ranma was displaying an ability that he had never seen in the many
millennia he�d been administering the test.
**********
Ryoga was camped not too far from Jusenkyo, himself. He�d managed to
track Ranma. Having found the remains of the pyre and the backpack, he
knew that there was only one left of the Saotome pair. And, if the
footprints were any indication, Ranma was the that individual.
Though not the best of trackers, he managed to follow Ranma�s trail.
But he was only an hour or more behind. Sitting at his camp, he watched
the lights play in the valley, curious as to what was going on. As he
watched, curiosity got the better of him.
Packing his belongings, he set off towards the lights.
It didn�t take him long to arrive. Standing on a cliff edge, he was
able to see the dragon watching a figure fight ghostly images. Staring
in awe, he saw opponent after opponent fall. Due to distance and the
lack of any decent light, he was unable to see who was fighting. Ryoga
looked about for any way down, wanting to get a better look. Seeing
none but to drop down, he looked over the cliff to judge the distance.
Satisfied that it wasn�t too far, he leapt down.
If he hadn�t decided that splashing down in the water would be a good
landing point, he would have been okay. But, not knowing the nature of
Jusenkyo, he didn�t have a clue as to what was in store for him.
Ju Sen Kyo saw the descending martial artist. With one eye on Ranma, he
slithered around to where a struggling pig swam. Shaking his mighty
head, he fished the small, black pig out of the water carefully.
Reaching inside the water, he also pulled out the backpack and clothes
of the unfortunate.
He was feeling quite generous. Therefore, with a wave of a claw, warm
water splashed onto Ryoga. Sputtering, the young man stood up and
quickly clothed himself. He bowed to the dragon, stuttering a thanks.
~As you have been judged, therefore, you are to be accursed. Know ye
that, forevermore, you are to be changed into a pig when doused with
cold water. Warm water shall reverse the effect. Now go.~ Ju Sen Kyo
turned his attention back to Ranma.
Ryoga slumped to the ground in misery. He�d only wanted to see who was
doing the remarkable feat of defeating the warriors. If he had been
able to catch up with them, they could have taught him some more martial
arts so he could defeat Ranma more easily. But, instead, he had leapt
down to his own doom.
Somehow, he knew it was all Ranma�s fault. If his nemesis had just
shown up for their man-to-man fight, he wouldn�t have had the
unfortunate pleasure of meeting up with Jusenkyo. Standing, he gathered
his pack up and wandered off, not wanting anything more to do with this
miserable place.
In only a short time, he found the Jusenkyo guide�s hut. Knocking
loudly, he was greeted by the guide, who looked the worse for wear. He
reeked of alcohol, causing Ryoga to hold his nose.
The guide said something in Chinese. Seeing no intelligent response
from Ryoga, he turned away. Before he could go, however, Ryoga put a
hand on his shoulder.
"Do you speak Japanese, sir?"
Scratching his head, the guide nodded. "I speak little Japanese. What
you want?"
"Would it be okay if I stayed here for the night?" He looked at the
sky. Though it didn�t appear to be cloudy, he really didn�t want to
give the fates any chances. "I�m willing to pay or work for the
lodging."
The guide nodded, waving his hand. "You want drink? You know, they say
misery want company."
Thinking about it for a second, Ryoga agreed. This had to be the worst
time in his life. His search for Ranma could wait for another day or
two. And a drink or two of sake would dull the pain for the night.
Sitting down together, the two got down to some serious drinking.
**********
It took Khu Lon awhile to make it to Jusenkyo. By the time she did,
Ranma was nearly through with his test. She watched from a tree,
judging his abilities. Seeing his graceful arcs, she found that he was
performing all the moves flawlessly. She knew this only because she had
taken the test, herself, though not successfully.
She couldn�t tell exactly who it was, but the flashes she got indicated
that, whomever it was, was Japanese. The gi gave it away. No one in
China used a gi, as far as she knew. During her vigil, she also saw
someone else walking away from the pools. Any indication of whom it
was, was blocked by the bulk of Ju Sen Kyo and then the dark of night.
Dismissing him, she turned her attention back to Ranma. He was
finishing his last four opponents with ease. Coming to rest on the last
pole, he looked up at Ju Sen Kyo.
**********
Ranma waited expectantly. He�d proven that he could do what was asked
of him. Exhaustion was creeping up on him, but he staved it off with
only minor effort.
~You have done well. It has been nigh two hundred years that I have had
a worthy challenger. Therefore, I bequeath unto you the first of my
blessings. From here on out, you shall receive the gifts. Of them,
there are the Gift of Faces. This shall be the first you are to
master. After, in succession, are the Gifts of Sight, Flight, Fire,
Magus, and Form. Each one is difficult to master. And they shall go
beyond the abilities of Martial Arts. I am in the mind that, though you
are only focused on the Art, you would do well in learning these Gifts.~
Ranma started to argue. "But all I want is the Art. The Saotome School
of Anything Goes needs me to be the best in only the Art. Whatever the
Gifts are, you can keep them. The only reason I came here was to
practice aerial combat, which is my family�s specialty. Other than the
Art�"
Ju Sen Kyo forestalled any other arguments. ~It is of no consequence.
Since you came to my valley, even in ignorance, I choose you as my
Avatar. Henceforth, you are to master each Gift.~ Ranma started to
argue again, but was drowned out by the mental voice. ~I have summoned
a worthy teacher to help you.~
Khu Lon found herself moving of another�s will. She sighed, knowing
that she should have figured upon this event. But her own curiosity was
piqued by the young man, no more than a teenager, who had stumbled onto
the honor which she, herself, had sought after. She would accept him
with open arms, even without Ju Sen Kyo�s prodding.
Ranma stared at the withered old woman that came into the moonlight. He
was surprised by the fact that something that old could actually be
moving still. Pointing a thumb at her, he asked, "What�s it she�s gonna
teach me? I mean, a dried up old monkey with tricks up her sleeve or
somethin�?"
Faster than her age should have allowed, she jumped to a pole near Ranma
and bopped him on the head. "This �dried up old monkey�, as you say,
has over three thousand years of Amazon techniques under her belt, boy.
You would be wise to hold judgment for now." Turning to Ju Sen Kyo, she
said, "Now that you�ve saddled me with this child, what do I get in
return?"
Ju Sen Kyo thought for a moment. After a moment, he said, ~How about
shaving off a dozen or two years off? Would that be sufficient?~
Khu Lon cackled. "Oh, my, wouldn�t that be good? But, no, I don�t
think I want that. I�ve been alive longer than most. Perhaps we can
discuss it at another time?"
The dragon smiled. ~Yes, that would be splendid.~ Thoughtfully, ~If,
so long ago, you had waited another year or so�you might have won his
place.~
She paused in thought. "Perhaps. But I was a brash youth, too. Though
I was near the end, I could have finished, if not for my overweening
pride in my abilities. If not for that, I may not have made the
assumption that I could take that blow, instead of taking on the form
you gave me. But that is of another time and place. And, now that I
have had time to think of it, I believe I�m better for not being in this
boy�s place."
Ju Sen Kyo smiled enigmatically. ~Perhaps. Or perhaps not. As you
say, it is of another time and place. Neither here nor there. But your
reward shall be suitable for your duty to me.~ He turned his attention
back to Ranma. ~As to your first Gift�~
Suddenly, Ranma found himself lifted bodily from the pole he had been
standing on. He tried struggling, but it was to no avail. Then, as if
by a mighty heave, he found himself flying across the valley. With a
muffled cry, he splashed down into one of the pools. Surfacing, he
looked down at himself.
"Dammit," Ranma yelled, "you said I wouldn�t be cursed. I didn�t fall
into any of the pools. And now you�ve just thrown me into one of them.
What kind of raw deal is this?"
~This is the first of the Faces you are to master. During your tenure
with Khu Lon, you will find that having this particular Face will help
you. She is an Amazon. Thus, she can only bring you into her tribe as
a female. By her accepting you as a woman, you will have access to the
village, unlike any male. I warn you, however, this is not a curse.
Until you have mastered changing back to your original form, you will be
in this form. I give you a warning. Don�t go yelling about being a
man. Otherwise, you�ll be cast out without a teacher. And she is one
of the few I would trust, if I were you."
Ranma bowed her head. Her locks hung over her eyes, drops of water
falling into the pool. "What the hell did I ever do to deserve this,"
she said to herself."
"Come now, girl, my tired old bones aren�t liking this chill weather. I
want to get back to my fire and then to bed. And you�ll catch a chill
in those wet clothes if you stay out here too long in them."
They both turned to Ju Sen Kyo as he spoke. ~Know this, Saotome Ranma.
Through Fate and Destiny, you have been led here. Even I cannot see
past the Veil in order to determine this. I take those that come to
receive my Gifts as my Avatars, should they prove themselves. In time,
you shall reap the benefits of this. Even with you recent loss, you are
full of fighting spirit. Keep it with you forever, for it shall warm
you on those cold nights when hope seems to have lost its way. I bid
you farewell.~
The dragon, made of mist, finally went back to his dormant form. Ranma
looked up at the smirking Khu Lon. "Well, I guess that�s that."
"Get your backpack, child. We have a bit of a journey, the two of us.
And the sooner that we get started, the sooner we can be about sleeping
in a warm bed."
Nodding, Ranma did just that, following Khu Lon to her village.
_____
Okay, I changed a few things a bit, as you can see. A few questions and
comments on certain scenes that I'm sure that you'll ask...
Genma's death. Too easy, even though the most healthy of people have a
heart attack? And Ranma's reminiscing. Either not enough emotional
content and such, or what?
Ranma's ability to incorporate the martial arts moves and implement
them. Yes, Ranma is an exceptional martial artist. He has surprised
Cologne on more than one occasion with his ability to learn techniques.
If he were given them through telepathy and expected to know them, I'm
sure that it'd be feasible. As I'm putting it into the story, the
dragon has done this before with others passing.
I just had to get Ryoga cursed somehow. hehe
Cologne...Yes, she's a great martial artist. But she was young when she
took the test, not as she is now. People change over time, y'know.
That's a likely possibility, ne? Also, in this story, there can only be
one Avatar at a time for Ju Sen Kyo. Who more likely to teach Ranma
about his suddenly acquired abilities?
Hmmm...Just exactly what ARE these new Gifts supposed to be? Well, I'll
explain them later in the story.
Other than that, I can't think of much else. Pick it apart, if you
will. If you want more info on where I'm going with this, e-mail me
individually. Thanks, all!