If looked at by someone who did not know its alternate uses, it would appear to be like any other mostly empty storage room in any school or other sort of large building. Though many things were stored in there, mostly in the large wooden crates which took up much of the floor-space, that was not the room's claim to fame.
Rather, the significance of that room was based partly on the fact that it was a convenient, isolated spot on the school's ground floor, and much more on the fact that it was the usual hangout place for Kyosho Academy's leader, Sousou Moutoku, and his lieutenants, whenever they were at the school outside of official school hours.
That was the use it was being put to on this night. Sousou himself was there, as was Kakoton Genjou, though Sousou was alone in the room at the moment. He was lying on one of the larger crates, one long enough that he could stretch out and his whole body would still be on the wood. He sometimes stretched out on the concrete floor, but that was not his usual place.
Kakoton had returned from the doctor with a face-mask over the partial cast on his broken nose; received courtesy of Kanu Unchou earlier in the day. His nose had been virtually crushed and so he would be wearing the face-mask for several weeks at a minimum. Kakuka Houkou had been taken to the hospital and would be there overnight for observation.
Sousou was distracted from his musing over the day's events by the ring of his cell-phone. A text message was incoming. Curious, he pulled the phone from his pocket and flipped it open.
“Moutoku. Important guest incoming. Be alert. 'Ton.”
Well, Sousou mused, that was very direct. He wondered who the guest would be at this late hour, and sat up in preparation for the arrival.
A couple minutes later came a knock at the door. He called out, “It's open, come in.”
It was Kakoton who walked in first, Sousou noted. He then spotted the girl standing behind his friend. Her clothes were all rumpled but she looked vaguely familiar to him.
His friend then addressed him, and said “Moutoku, this is Kaku Bunwa, of Rakuyo”, and then sat down on the concrete a couple feet away from Sousou.
If he had not already been sitting up before the name it would definitely have caused him to pay attention. He now knew exactly where he had seen her; she was one of Totaku's direct subordinates, known as the “ice-cold advisor.” She wasn't known to be much of a fighter, but everyone linked to Totaku fed off their master's reputation.
He now took more notice of her. Her clothes were all rumpled but they were definitely Rakuyo's uniform. Her face was red; her hair was messy; and she looked... disheveled, at best. It was out of character, considering her own reputation, but Sousou didn't have to guess to know the reason, if not the motivation.
She was carrying what seemed to be a bouquet of flowers, which was probably in keeping with what was almost certain to be a message direct from Totaku himself. Sousou decided he would let her speak first.
“Greetings, Sousou Moutoku,” she said, in what seemed to Sousou to be a very composed voice. “Totaku sends his congratulations on your school's victory in the Big Fighter's Tournament.”
Interesting, Sousou thought. We win without even having a final round. He thought for a moment. “Thanks. We're honored.”
“I have these flowers,” she added, “as a gift for you. Could you get some water for them?”
Sousou nodded. “I'll get it after a while,” he commented. Even I'd prefer the Gyokuji over flowers, he thought. This must be about not handing that over, or maybe it's to avoid fate directly. Nothing is a coincidence. He sighed deliberately and loudly.
“You okay, miss? You look... disheveled and used,” Kakoton said. Sousou fought hard to repress a snort; it would only lead to outright laughter. She had definitely been used; her face was all red and covered with a white crust that was obviously dried semen; her glasses were covered also. So Totaku had obviously punished her for... something. Sousou didn't know what.
He watched the girl's face as his friend spoke; she was clearly bothered, and did not have an immediate answer. Still, it did come: “I appreciate your concern, but it is misplaced.” Kakoton nodded. Sousou chose not to comment on the painfully obvious lie.
“So then,” Kakoton continued, “what about the Gyokuji? It goes to the tournament winners. Where is it?”
“I am sorry,” Kaku shook her head, “but that item will be remaining in Rakuyo's possession for the foreseeable future.”
Kakoton bluntly replied, “What the hell? Why?”
Sousou frowned. He didn't really care about the Gyokuji, but 'Ton had a point.
Despite her appearance, the advisor managed a quite devious smirk. “The Gyokuji belongs to the strongest school. It's not something that should be handed out in simple tournaments.” She didn't laugh, but she plainly wanted to, Sousou decided.
“But we won the damn tournament! Rakuyo obviously forfeited! That means we're the strongest,” Kakoton almost yelled, with visible anger.
The girl shook her head mockingly. “Actually, no, it doesn't. The strongest is the one who makes the rules everyone else is required to follow. That power is still Rakuyo's; therefore the Gyokuji is ours by right.”
Kakoton was now incensed. “That's total bullshit,” he spat, as he punched the ground, denting and cracking the concrete. A couple moments passed before he noticed what he'd done, and he cursed at the sight. “Later. I'll fix that later,” he mumbled. Sousou laughed.
This conversation had turned amusing in its own way, he thought.
“I don't really care about the Gyokuji,” he said, “it's just a thing, even if it has tradition. Still,” he smirked, “what if we were to attack Rakuyo at night, kill Totaku, and just take it?” Answer that, miss Ice-Cold Advisor, he thought.
He was surprised to see that an equal, if not superior smirk was on her face. “Well,” she paused briefly, “if you believe you can, you may try. I am sure that your, err, bravery, would be recognized.”
Sousou nodded. He rose, and paced forward until he stood right in front of her, looking down at her face.
She looked up at him, face blank through what Sousou imagined was pure force of will. “What do you want?”
He smirked again, and raised his hands to either side of her face, and carefully pulled her glasses off. “You look cuter without the glasses.”
Probably despite her will, after a moment she blushed, and he put them back on her. “'Ton,” he said, “show her where she can clean herself up. No one should go around looking so... disheveled and used.” He deliberately echoed the earlier words.
Kakoton stood, “Aye, Moutoku. Will do.” He walked to the door, with Kaku following, as Sousou walked back to the crate he had been lying on. He picked up the bouquet, smelled it just once as a gesture, and then ripped the flowers to shreds and dropped the pieces to the floor.
Lying back on the crate he thought that, overall, despite this conversation, it really had been a pleasant evening.
Ranma was meditating. Or rather, she was trying to, and not having very much success at it.
She was sitting on one of the mats in the main sitting room of the house, legs in a butterfly position instead of seiza; she didn't like seiza very much, though she was skilled enough at it to be able to retain it for long periods. She sat in the butterfly position because it was notably more comfortable; long periods sat in seiza cut the blood-flow off to everything below the knees. It took great skill or long experience to be able to leave seiza gracefully; Ranma did not have long experience, but she did have the skill.
She was female at the moment, not having gotten cleaned up or bothered to restore her natural gender since dressing and leaving the bedroom. Her girl-friends were asleep; she supposed that if she didn't soon make some progress meditating she would change forms and go back to bed.
She was meditating to see if she could awaken the dragon in her soul. Not awake enough for a full manifestation, but just enough to sense and analyze the flow of power. The power was, apparently, ice-based; Un-chan had told her she had frozen the concrete when her dragon awoke. She knew that the dragon in Sousou Moutoku had command over flames; she did not know what elements, if any, the dragons in Ryuubi Gentoku or in her cousin Hakufu represented, nor the one in Chou'un herself, for that matter. She did not know for certain that the powers were elemental, but it seemed logical, since that was the case with two that she knew of.
Un-chan had said that her eyes appeared as they did because she had mastered her dragon, but had not said what that meant. She guessed that it meant a very great degree of control over the power, perhaps total control. That was what mastery was.
She was rather annoyed at herself for not being able to meditate. She knew the probable reason: meditation required a calm mind, and her mind just wasn't calm at the moment. It had not been calm all evening.
She had been nervous about having sex in female form, unsure what it would mean to enjoy the experience; and worried that she might enjoy it more than she did as a male. She did not know what it would mean if that were the case. Would it make her less of a man? Not a man at all? She didn't know, and the uncertainty was highly discomforting.
And after the event, she still was not certain about it; she had enjoyed the experience and was now able to compare the two, though she did not have a clear idea how, as different as the experiences were. She had heard an analogy once, that men's enjoyment of sex was akin to a volcanic eruption; and that women's enjoyment of sex was akin to crashing waves. She supposed she was in a good position to confirm whether that was accurate, as much as she might wish at times that the privilege was not hers. Though the curse now had this pleasant upside, it had caused plenty of headaches.
Meditation... meditation... she tried to relax. She closed her eyes and pictured the room she was sitting in... it wasn't large, but it was spacious enough when she was the only person in it. She reached out with her senses. Her mother and aunt were soundly asleep, as was Hakufu. Kokin was not; Ranma couldn't tell why, but he seemed to be unable to fall asleep for some reason. And in Ranma's own bedroom, both her girl-friends seemed to be asleep as well.
Ranma withdrew her senses from looking on the other people in the house, and turned them towards the yard. It was a large yard, filled with trees and other life, and a fishpond stocked with fish. It was a larger house and yard than that of the Tendo estate, though the house was only one story, but otherwise the lots were similar.
Satisfied that there were no other human presences in the house or on the lot, her thoughts again turned inward for reflection.
She drifted in thought for a while, but no obviously useful thread emerged. Sighing, she looked over her memories from earlier in the day, and that brought up a whole new tangent: a look at ki, and the use of it.
Ki was the essence of life and the expression of its user's will. Gained and experienced through martial arts training, it did not necessarily have to be expressed, but when someone was a fighter with a powerful ki, that ki could be sensed by those who were receptive to it. The more powerful the ki, the more easily it could be sensed, whether it was resting or actively being channeled.
Ranma knew that her own ki was very powerful, and she had multiple techniques which used it directly. Her oldest ki technique was the use of a calm mind and “cold” ki to perform the Hiryuu Shouten Ha, which Cologne had taught her some time ago. Later, she had learned a way to fuel her ki with confidence in the blast of violent kinetic force that was the Mouko Takabisha. She knew the Shishi Houkodan, which was the same technique only it used depression ki instead of confidence, but she had only performed it weakly and just once or twice. Depression was not her style.
That brought up general memories of Ryouga Hibiki, and the realization that she hadn't seen him in a long time. He was a headache (and a head-case), but she could admit that he was a reasonably powerful opponent; having him around to fight was better than not having any opponents.
Among her most recently acquired, and still not fully understood, ki techniques were the sealed arts that her father had invented. The Umi Senken seemed to depend upon hiding your ki so completely that the user and their “presence” just vanished; or at least this was what her father's scroll implied. From there, the user could attack from stealth, and generally from behind. The listed analogy was to attack a house as a burglar, entering through the back. The Yama Senken was the opposite, with the analogy of a robber breaking into a house from the front. The attacks described on the scroll were quite vicious, and though she had not tested most of them out, she felt sure that this was a style not to ever use on another human being unless they deserved to die, because that was a very likely outcome from the descriptions of the techniques.
She wondered if her father had ever killed someone while creating or testing these techniques, and that was why he had forsworn them. It fit.
Soun Tendo had never shown any ki techniques other than a massive ki projection of a monstrous head, which he used to scare and intimidate. She thought she had figured out the theory behind the technique, but considered it wasteful. The old letch's giant battle aura was probably the same technique on a greater scale. She could admire the sheer power he possessed, and was still thankful for him certifying her as a master, but she wanted nothing to do with the old letch unless he would be reasonable and actually teach, and that was so unlikely as to be laughable, though Ranma did not believe this a loss.
Cologne, as far as Ranma could tell, was equally formidable (or at least nearly), and infinitely easier to deal with, with Shampoo and Mousse now gone.
Moving on to the new people in her life, her cousin Hakufu possessed a massive, mostly dormant ki. Kokin, her other cousin, had potential but he possessed very little confidence and seemed reluctant to fight openly.
Her lovers, Kan-chan and Un-chan, both had very powerful ki and conscious use of it.
Beyond there, her thoughts were much darker.
The fight against Sousou Moutoku had been terrifying. No ki she had ever sensed had been so full of malice and blood-lust, and so incredibly hot that it became real flames. It was the ki of Sousou's own dragon; until it had awakened, Ranma had not sensed any such power or emotion from Kyosho's leader.
Ranma's own dragon commanded ice...
She was interrupted in her musing by the sound of footsteps. Looking to the door, she saw that Kokin was entering the room.
“Hey,” he volunteered, “you couldn't sleep either?” He sat down a few feet away. “I'm unsettled. Couldn't fall asleep so I thought I'd come out here.”
Ranma nodded. “Was trying to meditate. Not much luck.”
Kokin nodded. “What were you trying to meditate for, or on?”
“Dragon”, Ranma replied abruptly.
For that, Kokin had no response. He laid on the floor, hands crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “I haven't put much time in meditation,” he commented after a while. “It's supposed to be helpful, but I never really found it to be so. My father had me try it sometimes, especially after we sparred, but I haven't tried at all since he left.”
Ranma nodded. Though she had listened and understood, her attention was mostly elsewhere. At length, she added, “Pop didn't make me do it much neither, said his master didn't so he wouldn't. We got it at temple sometimes, or in a dojo if he was having me fight their disciples for the experience, but mostly we got zen by sweating like racehorses.”
Kokin nodded. “You sound wistful.”
Ranma nodded grimly. “Pop's a shit-case most times, but he can fight and he can teach. Might be nice having his help sometimes; got a few questions about the techniques he left for me.” His eyes narrowed and he frowned. “They're killing techniques.”
Kokin's eyes widened.
Ranma noticed and shook his head. “It's all I can figure about a few of them. I can't see Pop as someone who killed if he could avoid it, but he still left me a scroll loaded with ways to kill; to kill violently and quickly.” He shook his head again. “I have to ask, if nothing else.”
Kokin nodded. “You want him around for the training, if not his usual company.” He turned away. “I suppose I can see that.”
Ranma grunted, conceding the point.
For some time, neither spoke nor moved. Ranma concentrated on the right breathing and tried in vain to slip into the meditative state, while Kokin lay on the floor and tried to think of nothing at all.
After a while, Ranma decided it had been a bad job all around. “I'm getting nothing done. I think I'll go out to the yard and work on kata for a bit.”
Kokin stood up. “Do you mind if I work with you”, he asked on a whim.
Ranma's eyes widened slightly. “Yeah okay. You know anything about Muay Thai?”
Kokin nodded. “The art of the eight limbs, right? It's supposed to be one of the most brutal styles in the world.”
Ranma nodded. “Yeah, it's good for being rough.”
Kokin smiled. “I thought you wanted to meditate though. That's pretty far from being rough.” His tone was questioning.
Ranma shrugged, and said, “If I can't find it one way, I'll find it another.”
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(Posted Sun, 08 Feb 2009 12:26)
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