Genma drank sparingly as he surveyed the bar, looking for... someone. He didn't know what they looked like, or who they were, but usually there was someone here that he could approach. Often it was someone who knew the area well, who could supply him with information on where a local dojo was, or who was looking for someone to do some work (it was good training for the boy). Or sometimes he found someone who knew where one could make bets. And, of course, he was always on the lookout for dropped change and the like. A few places even had tip jars or the like right out in the open -- how thoughtful of them, to supply two martial artists bound on a training journey!
The boy, his son, was coming along quite well. He wouldn't admit it to him, of course; it would make him slack off and get soft, of course. But he was rather proud of how well his teaching worked. Sure, he'd made a couple mistakes. Summoning a demon that time was rather foolish in hindsight, even if they'd gotten out of it with their skins intact. And perhaps he'd not pushed Ranma as hard as he should have. Still, though, thing've turned out well enough. Soon they'd be able to take that trip to China he'd been planning for months. Ah, plenty of places to train and a lot of new styles for his child to learn! And the exotic dishes...
He shook himself out of fantasies of mainland food and brought his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Hmmm... that woman in the corner was quite good looking, if seeming a a bit like a fish out of water. The hulking monster beside her, though, discouraged him from making an approach. A pity, really; he thought she seemed gulli - err, generous enough to be moved by stories of a young son... suitably dramatic, of course.
Thinking on the woman for a moment brought his mind to another subject. Ah, but his son was certainly growing up -- he was already displaying the irresistable Saotome charm. It certainly made the occasional suggestion of a possible match between him and the young daughter of a concerned mother easier. Heh... another reason to take a long trip to China before coming back to settle his son's future with one of Tendo's daughters. The girls Ranma's age had also noticed his magnetism, no doubt, and he didn't want any... problems... on that front.
Say, what about that guy over at the end of the bar? He looked to have been drinking steadily.
Genma picked up his mug and moved over to sit beside him. Now, the proper approach...
********
Ranma frowned as he froze in place in the ending step of the kata. A little too hasty half way through, but he was getting closer. He just stood there and stared at the trees in front of him. It wasn't really what was bothering him, though. It was... the dreams.
He couldn't remember much of them, really. Only vague blurry figures and strange smells and sensations. It was odd, really -- mostly he either couldn't remember his dreams at all, or they were crystal clear in his mind when he woke up, only to fade away within an hour or two. But these... these were more persistant, more REAL, and yet were... confusing. There was the voice, though. He definitely remembered the whispering, thick with confidence and arrogance -- even if he didn't quite remember what it said. He thought it was a female voice, but pretty low. It seemed to be comforting him, or at least trying, and there was a hint of something... disturbing... in it. It reminded him of his pop's voice when he was talking about food.
He slowly relaxed into a standing position, and then let his breath out slowly. He looked around to see if his father was back from his trip into town -- nope. He wasn't an idiot; he knew his father was in a bar, trying to scrounge up money for food. He doubted he begged for it, though -- the man might be lazy, but he had the martial artist's pride he'd drummed into his son. Sometimes pop would come back with an odd job for them for a day or two (rather, a job for Ranma... somehow his father only sat and watched. Or turned it into training somehow). Sometimes he just came back with money. Maybe he gambled, or had things he could sell, or something like that.
He sat down with his back against the large tree against which their gear sat and dug out a bag of dried fruit and nuts. It was just about all the food they had left, so he ate spaingly. Not that he was really very hungry, anyway. He didn't know why, but for some reason he just didn't eat as much as he used to as a kid. He remembered his father saying that it was related somehow to certain "changes he was going through on the path to becoming a man". When he'd asked what that meant, he'd gotten a rambling and rather disjointed discourse which had taken him a while to decipher. He still didn't see how not eating as much had anything to do with... that.
It wasn't that he wasn't hungry, really. It was just that he didn't have the same appetite for food that he used to. Maybe it was because it was mostly rice and canned goods that they ate (not a lot of variety there), with an occasional stop at a restaurant or a dojo which supplied them with food in trade for work.
Ah, well. Ranma sighed and stood back up, putting the food back in the backpack. He still needed to master the form before his father came back. It was about time for them to move on, too; they'd been here for a couple weeks, and his father had been hinting at a long trip ahead of them.
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(Posted Tue, 08 Feb 2005 04:41)
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