“Good morning, Hotaru.”
“Good morning, Setsuna-mama. Is Ranma-papa still sleeping?”
“No—in fact, he’s gone to Nerima to resume his training with his father.”
The small girl looked a bit confused at her mother figure’s statement. “But… isn’t he the one that keeps saying nasty things about you? And doesn’t he want Ranma-papa to divorce you?”
“Yes he is, and yes he does.”
“So why would Ranma want to spend time with him?”
“Well, apparently the two have managed to reach an agreement regarding Ranma’s martial arts training—they’ve both invested too much time in Ranma’s ability to let it entropy.”
“Oh… okay.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Hotaru-chan. This is a good thing—it’s like a weight’s been lifted off of his shoulders.”
“He told you that?”
“No. But I know it’s true anyway.”
In fact, Ranma did better now that the question of his continued training had been at least temporarily resolved—quite a bit better, actually, as his relief once he began his training session was massive enough that Setsuna had been able to feel it through their weak empathic link (and relief doesn’t usually conduct well through mental links to begin with). As Ranma traded blows and insults with his father (who’d braved the pain of the Cat Tongue yet again so he could be male when his son arrived), it felt… well, it felt normal, and lately he hadn’t been getting very much normal in his life.
In fact, things were downright spiffy until Genma landed a punch to his ribs. As per the older man’s usual m.o., this was followed by an insult: “What wrong with you, boy? Been relying on those knockers of yours to get you out of fights?” It wasn’t even a very good insult, and would likely have been subject to a somewhat witty rebuttal, except that Ranma had done exactly that in his fight with Ryoga.
Of course, as a master of Anything Goes, Genma could spot a distracted mind in a split-second, and, following the tenets of his Art, he proceeded to take full advantage, landing a kick that sent his pupil flying straight into the Tendos’ koi pond, causing the redheaded martial artist to start grumbling and cursing as she clambered her way onto the grass again.
“Alright, boy,” Genma said to his son, even though said son was female at the moment, “I don’t care how out of practice you are. An offhand insult like that shouldn’t have distracted you that much. What’s going on?”
Thus, Ranma did her best to keep the wet silk of her shirt from clinging to her breasts (she’d grown a bit self-conscious of that lately), and proceeded to tell her father the details of her most recent encounter with her directionally-challenged rival.
“So, anyway, I was wonderin’ if ya knew of any special technique that might help me—”
“Oh, now this is rich. After years of complaining that I go too far when I’m trying to teach you a new move, now you’re eager for me to share my knowledge.”
Ranma glared at her father. “Look, do ya know any moves or not?”
“I might.” This was true, in a sense—from Ranma’s rather vague description, Genma had already formulated several possible strategies for beating the Iron Cloth Armor technique, even though he’d never actually seen it in action. That was what Anything Goes was all about, after all.
“Well, then let’s hear ’em!”
“No.”
“No? Why not? Are you still grumblin’ about Setsuna?”
“As a matter of fact, I am, but that has nothing to do with why I’m not going to teach you a counter.”
“Then why?”
“Because by now you should be able to come up with your own moves and counters, that’s why!” shouted Genma, who was clearly irritated. “Good god, boy, have you already been reduced to this? You, who came up with the Moko Takabisha without any direct help from me? How are you supposed to run the School if you forget its basic tenets after a mere two weeks away from your sensei?”
“Look, I’ve been real busy….”
Genma sighed. He really should have been more patient with his son—if he’d come up against a technique like this “Iron Cloth Armor” business, he’d probably react similarly as well. “Perhaps we should start over—after all, even the best students sometimes stumble a bit.” He motioned for his physically female son to sit down. “First of all, you already have come up with an effective counter—if Ryoga’s as shy as you say he is, all you’ll ever need to do is expose some cleavage, and the day will be yours.”
“And if I can’t get cold water?”
“Boy, I highly doubt that such a situation will ever come about,” Genma said darkly—his words were clearly backed up by his experience with his own curse.
“Okay, so I always got that ta fall back on. But if Ryoga ever overcomes his shyness, or I gotta fight somebody else who knows a technique like that, what should I do? I mean, he wears long sleeved shirts, long pants, and a bandanna, and they all act like armor when he charges them with ki.”
“And you can’t stop him from charging his clothing?”
“I don’t think so—he’ll probably do that before he attacks. And it ain’t like I can find him so I can catch him off guard.”
Genma considered this for a second, and then asked, “What about the parts of his body that aren’t covered with cloth? Are they ‘armored’?”
“Um… actually, I dunno. I think so—I mean, Ryoga seemed ta be guarding his face durin’ our fight, but I’m not sure.”
“I suggest you find out. At this stage of your training, you should only be turning to me when you’ve exhausted every resource at your disposal. The next time you fight, you should stay alert so that you can accurately assess what this technique is capable of.”
“And how do I do that, outside of lettin’ him kick my ass?”
“Appeal to his sense of vanity! If you ask him what the technique can do with the right body language and tone of voice, he’ll probably tell you all of the details you need to know so that he can feel superior to you.”
“An’ if he don’t?”
“Fight him for a while, take note of his fighting patterns, use those ‘assets’ of yours to win, and come back to me so we can discuss it. When do you expect to fight him again?”
“Pops, I’ve already told ya, the guy’s sense of direction is so bad that I got no idea when I’ll see him again.”
“I see. Well, until then, we’ll work on improving your skills of observation and reaction time. Now get up—we’ve wasted enough time talking as it is. I think it’s time we start adapting your style for your female body.”
“Yes, Saotome-sensei,” droned the redhead as she got up from the ground. “But I got one question….”
“Yes?” asked Genma as he once again brought up his mental list of pithy martial arts proverbs.
“Well, I was thinkin’—” Ranma stopped abruptly, grabbed her father by the shoulder and heaved him into the Tendo koi pond, much to the irritation of the fish (not to mention Genma-chan). As the now-voluptuous head of the Saotome School scowled at her student, Ranma finished her sentence. “—that ya really oughta get some practice with yer girl form as well.”
“You’ll pay for that, boy.” Genma glowered before she launched into a fresh round of attacks.
And so, the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts was restored to a state of normalcy… sort of.
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(Posted Mon, 18 Sep 2006 03:18)
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