After training for several years under Obsidian, he looked good - though dangerous. He was fit, tall, and a bit weatherbeaten. He had the air of someone who had visited Hell - because the hunting was good.
Obsidian had trained him well. Commando Training, Jeet Kune Do, Dirty Streetfighting, Hwarang Do, Shotokan Karate, Ninjitsu, Jiu Jitsu - because sometimes you had to leave the weapons at the door.
Because you didn't always have to leave the weapons at the door - he could fire most small arms, a number of heavy weapons, and a fair number of onboard weapons. He had been driving a jeep since he was ten, served as a field medic since he was twelve, piloting since he was fourteen, and had been in kill-or-be-killed situations long before either skill had been mastered.
Obsidian's Law #4:The only unfair advantage in a battle is the advantage your side doesn't have.
Ranma had served alongside mercenaries in wars in places where he couldn't pronounce the name, but had picked up enough of six languages to get the basics done.
So the young boy who adjusted his long jacket in front of the door was not an innocent. He was also armed in a number of interesting ways - and had permits for everything he carried. He'd worked against the law in some places (it paid better and sometimes the authorities were more crooked than their opponents) and for the law in others.
He knocked politely at the door, putting away his sunglasses as he waited. In Japan, wearing sunglasses made you look like the Yakuza. He didn't have a lot of respect for the Yakuza, but he didn't want to go against them unnecessarily either.
Obsidian's Law #16:Pain is a strong teacher, and it's better to give than to receive.
A woman answered the door. Slightly shorter, reddish highlights to her hair, fairly pretty despite being in middle age. "Yes?"
"Hello. My name is Ranma Saotome. I am attempting to find and get in touch with my birth mother. Would you be her?"
The woman seemed to go into shock.
Obsidian's Law #12:Give trust sparingly until it is well earned, because all men bear the blood of Cain.
Ranma waited a few moments for the woman to recover. "Ma'am?"
"My name is Nodoka Saotome, I - please come in!"
Ranma nodded and followed the woman in. He'd spoken over the years with Obsidian, how his father had sold him out. While inclined to be pleasant and get to know his mother again, he had to keep in mind: this woman gave him up to his father to raise and trusted Genma Saotome to do the right and honorable thing.
Ranma had intersected his past or Genma's reputation on three major occasions. Being sold for a bowl of rice and two pickles being something that Obsidian had brought up for several years. It had gotten around among several of the forces they'd served with. Some of whom, good naturedly, still called him 'pickle-boy'. If they weren't people whom he could trust to watch his six, he wouldn't have tolerated it.
Besides, two of them sent him bags of rice and jars of pickles whenever they had an idea where he was. Sometimes the bags or jars contained other supplies or information - so it was a useful thing.
"So, dear, where have you been? Where's Genma?"
Ranma looked over the dining room and made several conclusions based on it. Traditional, spartan, not terribly well off. Probably no real source of income. "He abandoned me years ago. Something about a debt. I've spent most of the last ten years travelling the world."
Nodoka didn't seem too surprised. Saddened - yes. Disappointed - yes. Surprised - not really. "Oh. I see."
Ranma filled her in on his adoption by a "sensei" and that he'd travelled the world. That seemed to assure her of something, she actually relaxed some. He didn't tell her about the wars or anything. As far as he told her - it was all training. Which, in a very real sense, it was. Training for an important job.
"I see. So what are your plans now?"
"There's a duty I have to see to. Something that was entrusted to me when I was first brought to sensei." Ranma didn't mention Obsidian's name. The traditional raiment and decorations might indicate someone who was very old-fashioned and therefore not going to be tolerant of a "gaijin" raising her son. "A profession and a calling."
"Not taking over your father's school of martial arts?" Nodoka asked.
Ranma shook his head once. "No. Bodyguard to a girl named Princess Serenity."
"A princess?" Nodoka raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.
"I have reason to believe she is here in Azabu Juuban, probably under another name," said Ranma. "And if what I've been given to believe is true - she really needs someone looking out for her."
"Ah," said Nodoka, not managing to hide a brief smile as she jumped to conclusions.
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(Posted Tue, 18 Nov 2003 11:34)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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