The Dragon's Fang


Ranma stood at the bottom of a long flight of steps, leading up the side
of a hill, through the trees. He sighed. Somewhere lost in the trees
above him was the Masaki shrine, where he would have to convince an old
priest to train him with weapons. Ranma was not comfortable with the
idea, and so his steps were slow as he began to make his way up the long
flight. 

The Musabetso Kakuto Ryuu emphasized the weakness of a warrior who was
dependent on a weapon, but Lady Alana had insisted that he had to learn
to use and wield the Dragon Fang, Fey's weapon. She had insisted that
formal challenges for Fey Castle, that he was honor-bound to answer, had
to be defended with weapons lest his opponents be insulted. He remained
resistant, until she pointed out that if they felt insulted or slighted,
they might declare war, instead of accepting the outcome of the bout,
that convinced him. He could not be responsible for putting Lady Alana
in the path of a war, when she could not flee because of him. 

As it was, she was forced to put herself to sleep, and accept the grave
risk of death should he not return promptly each week, to allow him to
attain the training he would require. It pained him to think of her,
forced to sleep, vulnerable and alone, while he trained, and he vowed to
himself that he would master the Dragon Fang in record time, and release
her from her danger.

So resolved, his gait changed. Instead of slowly plodding upwards, he
now leapt, ten or twelve steps at a time, and in short order, came to
the flat top of the hill, whereon stood a large two story house, in a
traditional Japanese style, all sliding doors of paper and thin wood,
and tall windows looking out over a lake beyond.

Tenchi sighed, pushing the leaves along with his broom. It seemed so
pointless, brushing away the leaves, when more would fall tomorrow, and
more the day after, but he worked steadily at it. As soon as he
finished, he had to go up to Katsuhito's shrine, and train again. 

Hearing a noise on the long flight of steps that run down to the road,
Tenchi looked up. His jaw dropped slightly as he saw the young boy in
the air, reaching nearly twelve feet above the top of the stairs at the
peak of his jump. The boy couldn't be much more than seven, Tenchi's own
age, but Tenchi could see, given the boy's tight black shirt, and
judging by his amazing leap, that Tenchi was nowhere near this guy's
condition. Tenchi also noted with interest the black scabbard that hung
on the boy's waist, pointed slightly behind him. It looked to hold about
a two foot long blade. Tenchi sighed softly. A two foot blade... then he
wouldn't be here to learn to use a katana, and Tenchi probably wouldn't
get to spar with him. 

The young boy's gaze snapped directly to him when Tenchi sighed, and he
leaped again, crossing the fifteen feet between them in a single bound.
He landed lightly on his feet, barely flexing his knees, then
immediately dropped into a deep bow. "Greetings, Warrior," he began, in
a soft boyish tone, at odds with his strong appearance, if not his
apparent age, "I seek the Shrine of Masaki. Can you direct me to it?" He
straightened, and looked Tenchi in the eye, his face serious and a 
little sad.

Tenchi bowed in response. "Greetings, Honored Guest. I can direct you,
but will you not stop, and have some tea? You must be tired from your
journey." Tenchi knew that Katsuhito would be annoyed with him if he
failed to remember his manners.

The boy broke into a surprised and delighted grin, falling from his
formal stance. "Sure, thanks. My name's Saot... uh, no.. uhm... Fey
Ranma. What's yours?"

Tenchi looked at him curiously. He sounded like he wasn't sure what his
own name was... but no, that didn't make sense. He must have some reason
for not wanting to use his real name. Oh well, Katsuhito would deal
with it, if it was important. It was not Tenchi's place to question the
word of a guest. "I am Masaki Tenchi," he replied, answering the boy's
grin with one of his own, "please, come in." He set his broom against
the side of the house, and stepping up to the door, slid it open,
gesturing Ranma in ahead of him. 

"Please make yourself comfortable at the table there, Ranma-san, and
I'll get the tea." Tenchi quickly put together the tea tray, eager to
learn more about this stranger. He was Tenchi's own age, or close to it.
Would he be staying to study with Katsuhito? Tenchi would enjoy having
a boy his age around. He had a few friends at school, but they did not
come over often, and most days he spent alone, except during his hours
of training with Katsuhito. He brought the tea tray out, and set it
lightly on the table before Ranma, then poured two cups. Handing one to
Ranma, he folded his legs beneath him, and sat on a cushion by the
table. 

Ranma sipped at his tea, and smiled at the taste. "This is very good
tea, Tenchi-san." 

Tenchi grimaced. "Just Tenchi, please."

"Only if you agree to call me Ranma. You used the honorific first,
remember," Ranma replied with a grin. 

"Yeah, sorry. What do you want to see the shrine for? Are you looking
for Grandfather? Or do you want to make an offering?" Tenchi asked,
hoping to assuage his curiosity while asking a perfectly legitimate and
polite question.

"Yeah, I guess your grandfather is probably the guy I'm here to see."
Ranma's face had darkened with pain, Tenchi was surprised to observe. He
hoped Ranma was not here to challenge Katsuhito. "I gotta get
trained in the use of my blade, if I can get the Master of the Shrine to
take me as a student."

"Why do you look so... sad, I guess, about training with Grandfather?"
Tenchi asked, wondering why on earth Ranma looked so down. Tenchi
certainly enjoyed his training, even if Katsuhito never seemed to
think he was good enough at it.

"So your grandfather is the Master of the Shrine, then?" Ranma turned
Tenchi's question aside with another.

In politeness, Tenchi was forced to answer Ranma's question, and ignore
Ranma's avoidance of his own. "Yes, I guess. I never heard him called
Master, but he's the only one who could be, I think. My dad certainly
isn't. He pretty much ignores the shrine. He works in town all day. Uhm,
listen, I'm supposed to go up to the shrine for my training as soon as I
finish my chores, so if you could wait just a few more minutes, I could
take you up there myself," Tenchi offered.

"Sure," Ranma replied. "Can I help you?" 

Tenchi stood up, "No, that's alright. I just gotta finish sweeping the
grounds, and I'll be done. And I've only got the one broom." He bowed to
his guest, and walked outside, grabbing his broom. As he swept, he
thought about Ranma. He had observed him as they drank their tea, and he
could clearly see the signs of a skilled martial artist. Ranma moved
with a disturbing grace, and every motion seemed to say 'this could have
been a killing blow.' It was uncanny.

In a few more minutes, he was finished. He put the broom away, and
turned to the house to retrieve his guest. Ranma was already standing
outside the door.

"Lead on," he said. Tenchi led him around the house to the second long
flight of steps, that led up to the shrine. Ranma followed along beside
him.

"Uhm. Ranma... you didn't really answer me before. Why don't you want to
learn to use your sword? I still remember being excited the first time I
got to train with Katsuhito." Tenchi queried, keeping a light tone to
let Ranma know that he wouldn't be offended by another evasive answer,
but genuinely curious. It seemed so strange to be saddened by the
thought of learning, especially for one who was obviously so skilled
already.

"Its not that, Tenchi. Its just... well, I'm supposed to be the heir of
a school of martial arts... and well... No offense, but one of the
tenets of the school is that a warrior who uses a weapon is weaker
than a guy that doesn't need one. He is bound by its weakness, see, and
if ya know what weapon the guy uses, you know his weak spot and can
attack it. But I haveta learn... No, I have to master... my blade. Its a
matter of honor, I guess. I gotta be able to defend her." Tenchi looked
at him curiously. Her? This kid, no older than him, had a girl that he
had to learn to use a sword to defend? Wow.

"But Ranma, if you know how to use a weapon, and you're just as good
without it, doesn't that make you even better than someone that is only
good without one? What if you get in a situation where you have to fight
with a weapon?" Tenchi queried. Surely Ranma couldn't really believe
that someone without a weapon was even stronger than someone with one.
It just didn't make sense.

"That's just my problem. I gotta use a weapon. I dunno. I guess maybe
you're right. If I keep up my unarmed skills just as good, then using a
weapon would maybe just make somebody assume I had a weakness that I
didn't have. Hey, yeah, and then I could use that against them. Wow,
thanks Tenchi." 

Ranma seemed much happier now, Tenchi thought. They had reached the top
of the stairs, and the door of the shrine slid open, and Tenchi's
grandfather stepped out. Ranma looked up at him, and decided that this
tall thin man, with a lined but pleasant face set off by thin 
rectangular glasses that glinted in the light, was far more than he
appeared. He seemed to have no aura, and little skill, yet in just a few
of his movements, Ranma could sense his power, and realized that
Tenchi's grandfather was so skilled that he could almost completely
conceal his skill and his power.

"So Tenchi... brought one of your friends to watch you train again?"
Katsuhito asked, smiling.

"No Grandfather. This is Fey Ranma. Ranma, this is my grandfather,
Masaki Katsuhito," Tenchi replied.

Ranma stepped forward, and bowed deeply. "Honored Master of the Masaki
Shrine, I beg leave to learn from you the art of the sword. I must
achieve mastery over my weapon, the Dragon Fang, to fulfill my honor and
duty. Will you accept me as your student?" Ranma continued to hold the
bow for a long moment, before rising again, and looking Katsuhito in
the eye. Tenchi was interested. He thought the speech might have been
rehearsed. Certainly it was free of the the rough and uncouth mannerisms
that had peppered their earlier conversation.

"The Dragon Fang you say, Ranma? Let me see it, please," responded
Katsuhito, holding out his hand. Ranma pulled the sword from the
sheath. It slid out in utter silence, and gleamed golden in the
sunlight. Tenchi was quite impressed... it looked very well made for a
short sword. 

Katsuhito accepted it from Ranma, and looked at it curiously. "So you
are Fey's heir, eh? I don't really know if I should teach one of Fey's
blood. Your father was a dangerous man, Ranma. I hope you understand why
I cannot accept you as a student. Please forgive me." Tenchi goggled...
his grandfather knew Ranma's father? And wouldn't teach him because of
that?

Ranma did not immediately accept his sword back. Instead he bowed deeply
again. "I think you do not quite understand, Honored Master. I am not
Fey's son, though I am his heir. I.." and his voice crackled with
suppressed emotion, "I killed him. It falls on me therefore, to defend
the Lady, for she has no-one else. Please, Honored Master, understand,
evil though he might have been, I did not wish to k-kill him. But I did,
and I... my honor requires that I master his sword so that I may defend
the Lady." 

When he straightened again, Tenchi was surprised to note the tears
welling in his eyes, though they did not fall. His face was clouded with
pain. Could this boy really have killed someone so evil that Katsuhito
would be unwilling to teach someone just because they were related to
him? Tenchi goggled at him, realizing that given what the boy had said
on the stairs, he must have killed him while unarmed! After all, Ranma
had made it clear that he did not know nor approve of the use of weapons
in combat. This seven year old kid had killed a man unarmed? Wow.

Tenchi saw Katsuhito's eyes soften as he looked down at the boy.
"Very well, Fey Ranma. I will train you, until you have mastered the
Dragon Fang. But first I must train my grandson. Come, sit here, and
watch, and learn what you can." Katsuhito led Ranma to one side, where
Ranma dropped easily into seiza, sitting with his legs folded beneath
him. 

"Tenchi, assume!" Katsuhito barked. Ranma sat quietly and watched, as
Tenchi sparred with his father, their bokkens whirling and clacking
against each other. Tenchi was quickly sweating, while Katsuhito
remained cool and collected, offering mild comments on Tenchi's form as
his bokken whirled and sliced the air.

Ranma considered, and when Katsuhito made a comment about Tenchi still
knowing the sword was in his hand, instead of using it as an extension,
he focused on the difference in the two. Katsuhito hardly seemed to
notice that he was wielding a weapon, while Tenchi seemed to pause an
instant before each move, as if he had to decide what to do next.

Finally they stopped, and Tenchi slumped to the side to rest. Then
Ranma stood, and at Katsuhito's request, began a simple kata. Tenchi
watched wide-eyed, as Ranma steadily increased the speed and complexity
of his kata. He was moving with unnerving silence, and surprising grace.
It put Tenchi in mind of the television programs he had seen on tigers,
the way Ranma's muscles rippled under his skin, his sheer strength as he
tore the air, the subtle grace of his body as he moved through the 
forms. 

Katsuhito, meanwhile, observed in silence, making no comment as Ranma
finally came to a sudden stop, holding a most untenable position for
nearly a minute, as demanded by his school's katas, before finally
relaxing. Ranma turned, and gave Katsuhito another deep bow. 

"Now, Ranma, take up a bokken, and we will begin with the forms."

Ranma's ingrained distaste for using weapons became very evident over
the next few minutes, but before Katsuhito could comment on it, Ranma
pulled to a stop. "Master, is it okay if I stop and meditate for a
few minutes?"

Katsuhito, who had been about to comment to Ranma on his apparent
unwillingness to use the weapon, raised an eyebrow at the unusual
request. He nodded, and said nothing. 

Tenchi watched curiously as Ranma dropped easily into lotus position,
and closed his eyes. Katsuhito considered his position and behavior, and
decided that Ranma had had only rudimentary training in meditation. 

Ranma had immediately realized the danger his own dislike for weapons
posed. If he could not rid himself of it, then no matter how skilled he
became, he would always be aware of the fact that he was wielding a
weapon... it would never be as an extension of himself. After having
observed the difference between Tenchi and Katsuhito, Ranma had decided
that he had to learn to wield as Katsuhito did, using the weapon as if
it were his own arm.

As he dropped into meditation, he focused on the certain knowledge that
if he could not defeat his own feelings of disgust and dislike regarding
weapons, he would never master the Dragon Fang. If he failed to master
the Dragon Fang, then he would eventually fail to protect the Lady from
a threat. If his inability to defend against a challenge properly lead
to war, he knew that he would be unable to properly defend her. No
matter how skilled he might become, he would not be able to fight
indefinitely. Faced with a large army, he would inevitably be tired out
and fall to his own exhaustion, and she would be unprotected. 

He could not allow this to happen. He could not fail her. Saotome Ranma
does not lose! Fey Ranma must not lose either. He focused on his
feelings of distaste and buried them in ice. Unknowingly, the strength
of his determination not to fail the Lady led him to achieve the first
level of the true Soul of Ice, and as he buried his fears and the
attitudes that Genma had drilled into him, the air temperature around
his body actually began to drop. 

It did not drop far, but Katsuhito was a very observant man. As the air
cooled, it lost some of its capacity for holding moisture, and the
moisture began to condense on Ranma. Katsuhito observed that it was not
sweat, beading up from beneath. Rather, the beads of moisture appeared
all over, even on top of his shirt and pants. Particularly, he noticed
the liquid that coalesced on the folds of his pants, where the fabric
was not even in contact with the boy's body. He wondered where the boy
had learned such a powerful meditation technique, given his obvious lack
of training in the meditative arts. 

When Ranma's eyes opened, they were filled with a pure determination. He
rose lithely to his feet, and took up the bokken again. Tenchi was
unable to discern the difference, but Katsuhito immediately noticed that
the boy held the bokken without seeming to be really aware of it. Though
he did not yet have the skill, he had achieved with a single five minute
meditation the final step that Tenchi had yet to achieve after two years
of training. <Amazing! Lady Alana was right about the boy, he has a
potential I have never seen in a human before.>

Now Katsuhito demonstrated a kata, moving slowly from position to
position, demonstrating the correct stance, then moving to physically
reposition Ranma's limbs into the precise positions.

"Now, Ranma, show us the kata." Tenchi looked up in surprise. He had
shown him the kata only once, and now he wanted Ranma to perform it?
Ranma nodded, then immediately entered the first stance. Tenchi felt a
growing sense of amazement, tinged with just a bit of awe, as Ranma
steadily moved through each stance in the kata. Though moving slower
than the kata called for at first, after only five stances he had
reached the proper speed, and was entering each position with clean
precision and perfect timing. When he finished, Katsuhito spoke again.
"Again, full-speed the whole way this time."

Tenchi looked at his grandfather in surprise. No word of praise? No
reaction to such an unbelievable performance? Ranma simply nodded, and
proceeded to do the kata again. This time his performance
seemed wholly without flaw to Tenchi. 

Katsuhito noticed Ranma's lack of surprise when Katsuhito signaled his
acceptance of Ranma's performance, not with praise or words, but by
beginning a new kata. Again Ranma followed him. Katsuhito found himself
surprised at the boy's skills, as Ranma stopped mimicking Katsuhito's
stances after Katsuhito completed them, and began matching his moves as
he made them. <Truly an impressive performance, to perform a kata, even
at this slow pace, in perfect sync, without ever having seen it before.
I will have to consider carefully whether I can allow him to watch me
train Tenchi. If I do, it will be the same as teaching him the style of
Jurai.>

At the kata's end, Katsuhito signaled Ranma to do it again, then,
without turning, spoke to Tenchi. "Tenchi, why don't you go now, and
prepare the guestroom for Ranma."

"Yes, Grandfather," Tenchi replied, and headed for the stairs. As he
walked down them, he considered Ranma's performance. <He's really
amazing. I sure never learned a kata that quickly. I wonder if he does
anything besides martial arts?> Tenchi considered again Ranma's words
as to why it was so important that he learn to master his weapon. Who
was 'the Lady,' and why was she so important to him? Surely he couldn't
have a serious girlfriend at his age, especially not one for whom the
term 'Lady' was appropriate.

When he reached the house, he saw that his father, Noboyuki, was home
from work. He informed his father that they had a guest, then went to
quickly prepare the guestroom. He would need to start dinner soon, and
he did not want it to be late. 

They lived nearly an hour by bus from the outer edge of Tokyo where
Tenchi attended school. He had friends, to be sure, but he tended to see
little of them except at school or on holidays. 

It was Tenchi's hope that he and Ranma might become friends. It would be
nice to have someone else to do things with. Ranma seemed a rough sort,
given his speech and obvious skills, but he had not looked annoyed or
disappointed by Tenchi's manners. Hopefully, then, he would not be the
sort to look down on Tenchi as a 'wimp' simply because he had been
schooled in proper behavior, as some of the less pleasant boys at school
did.

It took Tenchi only about a quarter of an hour to straighten up the
guest room. He stripped the bed and put on clean, fresh linens, then
made it up with a thick, warm blanket. He tidied up the rest of the
room, and as a final touch, placed a number of dried flower petals in a
bowl of warm water to give the room a pleasing scent. 

Then he went back downstairs, absently greeting his father again, and
went to the kitchen, He put water on to boil for rice, and then started
cleaning and chopping vegetables.

Noboyuki didn't really notice Tenchi's second greeting, but looked up at
the sounds of sudden industry from the kitchen, and smiled. He smoothed
his mustache as he thought again what a delightful boy Tenchi was. After
the death of his wife... that thought brought a depressed frown to his
face for a moment, but he resolutely pushed it aside, and smiled again,
as he heard Tenchi chopping in the kitchen... Tenchi had picked up the
role, and become the caretaker of the family. 

Noboyuki hoped it would not hurt his chances with the ladies, but then
decided that was unlikely. What with his taking up training under
Katsuhito, he'd keep in great shape, and the ladies loved a sensitive
guy. Tenchi'd have no problems in that depart... wait a minute. What had
Tenchi said when he first came in? A guest? <I wonder if its a girl?>
Noboyuki thought, with a sudden lecherous grin... <No... wait... He said
the guest was here for training with Katsuhito. Then it must be a man.
Oh well, it'll happen eventually. A bit early yet, perhaps.

Tenchi had just finished setting the food on the low table when the door
opened, and Ranma and Katsuhito entered. "Perfect timing as usual,
Tenchi," commented Katsuhito, smiling kindly at him, then he grinned
with a sudden look of sardonic humour. "Hope you made enough. I bet
Ranma eats like a horse!" Katsuhito laughed lightly at his joke. 

Noboyuki stood, and bowed to the guest, who bowed in return. 

"Masaki Noboyuki, this is Fey Ranma. Fey Ranma, my son, Masaki
Noboyuki."

"It is an honor to meet you, Masaki-san," Ranma said, bowing again.

"My pleasure. Here to learn from the old man, eh?" Noboyuki replied with
a grin. Katsuhito rapped him on the head. "Ow!"

"Dinner is ready, Father, Grandfather." Tenchi placed the dishes
carefully on the table. 

The four sat and began to eat. Had Ranma come only a few weeks before,
he would doubtless have shocked Tenchi and his family with his eating
habits. As it was, several weeks of eating with the Lady had mellowed
him. The habit was not yet as deeply ingrained as it might have been,
and not only was it no longer necessary to defend his food, but he
was actually permitted to eat as much as he cared to. 

Regular meals were not something Ranma had been accustomed to, but he
had found that after a short time, it became hard to imagine going
without. His days of starvation seemed to fade behind him, and so while
his manners at the table were not polished, neither were they such as to
draw attention or comment from his dining companions.

---

After Tenchi finished dressing the next morning, he decided to look in
on his guest before making breakfast for the family. However, when he
reached the guestroom, he found it empty, and the state of the bed
indicated it had not been used. Rather, the pillow and blanket had been
removed, and now lay rumpled on the floor. Tenchi would have assumed
that Ranma had simply thrown them off upon getting up, had he not noted
that the bedsheet was still taut and unwrinkled. 

Tenchi mused on this as he moved on down the stairs to begin breakfast
preparations. He paused for a quick look through the windows about the
downstairs but did not see his erstwhile guest. As he moved about the
kitchen preparing a simple breakfast, Tenchi considered whether he would
ask Ranma about it when he saw him again. He had not expected Ranma to
rise early after a nearly three hour session with Tenchi's
grandfather... Ah, perhaps Ranma was in the furo, taking a hot soak to
loosen muscles sore from the previous day's exercises. 

A short time later Noboyuki stumbled into the kitchen with a towel
wrapped around his waist. "Ah... nothing like a morning soak to get
ready for a long day at work. Breakfast smells good, Tenchi. How's our
guest? Still sleeping?" Noboyuki laughed lightly. He was aware that the
boy had had a session with Katsuhito the day before, and sympathized
with the boy's lethargy.

"No, Father. I had assumed he was in the furo, since he was not in his
room."

"Nope. Not there, I was just in, and I had to run the hot water. Hadn't
been used."

"Is Grandfather up yet?"

"Of course I am!" Katsuhito stood at the front door, removing his shoes,
and slipping into the soft indoor slippers. "Ranma is up as well. He was
up at the crack of dawn. I found him practicing sword katas while
leaping about the pillars."

"It is good that he appreciates your training facilities, Grandfather,"
said Tenchi politely, then continued with a worried frown, "but is it
wise for him to be attempting to combine sword-play with aerial forms on
pillars so soon?"

"Heh! Normally I would be the first to agree, Tenchi. A good way to get
severely injured," Katsuhito responded, then thanked Tenchi as the boy
handed him a warm cup of tea. He moved to kneel at the table, and
Noboyuki sat across from him, as Tenchi served their breakfast. Noboyuki
had somehow managed to get to his room, get dressed, grab his briefcase,
and return to the table in the few moments it took Tenchi and Katsuhito
to have their conversation. <When the Lady told me he was gifted, I
never imagined this!>

Noboyuki looked at Katsuhito, who was simply grinning at some internal
thought. "So, Katsuhito, are you implying that it is not dangerous for
your new student?"

"No, he seems to have already integrated the sword forms I taught him
into his own personal style of martial arts." <I recognize his style.
Definitely Anything Goes. But his skill! I would expect a master, with
twenty years of study, to be able to integrate foreign styles into his
own, but to learn them so quickly, and integrate them so easily... the
boy is uncanny.>

Ranma entered several minutes later, just as Noboyuki was leaving.
Tenchi set out a breakfast for him, and for himself. Katsuhito had
finished his, but sat and watched as Ranma ate. Tenchi finished his own
breakfast and returned to his room and prepared his school bag, then
rushed downstairs. 

After Tenchi left, Katsuhito turned to Ranma, his student, or teishi.
"Come, teishi, it is time to see what you have made of the forms I have
shown you. Let us spar."

Katsuhito led Ranma back up the hill to the shrine. He tossed a bokuto
to his teishi, and took up a second himself. Ranma took one of the
initial stances Katsuhito had shown him, not wanting to irritate his new
sensei by beginning from one of his father's non-stances, the stances
designed to cause an opponent to underestimate him. Though it was his
usual opening stance, he knew that Katsuhito had his measure already,
and would not underestimate him, so the primary purpose of it would be
invalidated. Further, he needed to judge the advantages and pitfalls of
the forms he had learned. 

Katsuhito had already noted Ranma's basic style, having already
experienced it through the founder of the style, the shriveled and aging
pervert Happosai. He was well aware that one of the tenets of the style
was to allow the opponent to make the first move, so he did not waste
time waiting for Ranma to act, but sprang to the attack. 

Ranma parried three of the opening blows in Katsuhito's initial
attack combination before realizing, too late as it turned out, that it
had been designed and intended to use his blocks to draw his bokuto out
of alignment. Even as he realized this, Katsuhito's bokuto flicked
through the opening he had created, catching Ranma in the side, hard. 

Ranma winced, drawing in a gasp at the pain, even as he blocked
Katsuhito's next attack. He thought he caught a similar pattern,
intended to draw his blade low, only to discover that it had been a
feint, and receiving a sharp rap to the thigh when he refused to be
drawn in.

Deciding that he was not going to be taken out so easily, Ranma firmed
his stance and prepared to attack. He knew he would get hit... if he
could not defend successfully while focused on defense, attacking would
only leave him more open. He was determined to get a hit on Katsuhito,
in spite of the inevitable cost.

He lashed out when he spied an opening as Katsuhito finished one
combination, giving him a hard rap on the left hand, and began another.
It was not an opening in the sense of a gap in Katsuhito's defenses,
merely a perceived opportunity to begin his own attack. 

Ranma tried Katsuhito's second combination, drawing on the third set of
forms he had been shown, but doubling the feint, intending to strike
high, since he knew that Katsuhito would recognize the attack sequence.
The expected hit met only another parry, even as Katsuhito used his own
knowledge of the form to strike Ranma twice.

In spite of taking regular hits, Ranma persevered, learning the holes in
the defenses the hard way, as Katsuhito's bokuto pierced them again and
again to give him new bruises. He used Katsuhito's attacks, slowly
perfecting them, even as with each attack he mimicked, Katsuhito
introduced him to the holes in the move with more bruises. When
Katsuhito again used the move, and Ranma attempted to respond to the
same holes Katsuhito had used, he learned from Katsuhito's parries how
to close those holes. 

While Ranma never did manage to get a strike in on Katsuhito, the old
man could not help but be astounded as the match progressed into its
third hour. The boy was bruised all over, and his face showed the pain
of his movements, and still he fought on. More impressively, his
defenses were now tighter than Tenchi's, and he had mastered moves that 
Katsuhito had not yet even introduced to his grandson.

Katsuhito was definitely intruiged. With Tenchi, his spars were
generally short, unless he held back from actually striking. Katsuhito
used two types of sparring with Tenchi. Pulled strikes allowed long
matches intended to build endurance and provide practice against a real
opponent, and full out matches ended quickly, but provided object
lessons in defensive holes that corrected the problems far more quickly
than any amount of explanation.

Ranma, on the other hand, was a genuine rarity, a student whose will to
learn was strong enough that he would take full-out sparring and
continue until he dropped. Katsuhito was well-aware of the potential
this implied. A fighter who trained thus, while he would go through far
more pain than any ordinary student would be willing to stand, would
improve far faster. 

Katsuhito called a halt to the session, then had Ranma perform several
slow kata, to his own accompaniment, as a cool-down exercise.
Considering the boy's stamina, and his innumerable bruises, Katsuhito
led him back down to the house. Obtaining cool drinks, they went
together to the furo, where a cold bath refreshed their minds, and a
long hot soak, with cool drinks to counteract the heat exhaustion,
brought considerable relief to aching and bruised muscles. 

Katsuhito noted wryly to himself that he had clearly been slacking off
on his own training. It had been many years since he had worked as hard
as he had today, and he was definitely feeling it. While his old age and
apparent decrepitude were a mere facade concealing his real nature as a
prince of Jurai still in the prime of his life, he was more aware in
this moment than he had been for years uncounted that he was out of
practice. Training his own grandson was simply not sufficient
preparation for this challenge, though he would not back down from it. 

He did not know the Lady Alana personally, but this was not the first
time these two worlds had crossed paths. He still remembered the
intrepid wanderer, and the tales he told, and one of the most vivid had
been that of the Lord Fey's love and betrayal of the Lady Alana. She had
confirmed the truth of the stories, and told him of the boy's insistence
on freeing her, of his surprising purity and honor. 

Katsuhito had been decidedly skeptical, being familiar with the founder
of the school, the aging pervert whose prime use of the art was to steal
lingerie from women, along with a grope here and there. He was also
cognizant of the nature of the two spineless cowards Happosai had
trained, though he had never met them. He found it difficult to credit
that any such as they could be responsible for this boy, which was the
motivation for his testing of Ranma at their first meeting.

To his surprise, Funaho, the massive tree that grew by the waters of the
lake, that none but he knew was in fact the sapling of the ship in which
he had crossed the galaxy before settling here after defeating and
imprisoning Ryoko, the pirate who had attacked his homeworld, had
affirmed that Ranma was not dissimulating in his responses.

Katsuhito looked up, shaking his head slightly. "I'm sorry, Ranma, I was
thinking of other things. What was it you said, again?" As he sat up,
his eyes widened as he took in his student's appearance. The bruises,
with which his body had been liberally coated, were gone. Only one could
still be seen, on his shoulder, the last to be inflicted, and even as
Katsuhito watched, it was fading.

"I asked, sensei, whether we were done for the day?" Ranma repeated his
question, and Katsuhito noted the vaguely dissappointed look in the
boy's eyes.

"Of course not," retorted Katsuhito, deciding that if the boy healed
that fast, then he might as well be pushed until he dropped. He would
survive, and he would learn all the faster. 

A short while later, they were down by the lakeside, where Katsuhito
demonstrated sword forms continuously until it was time to stop for
lunch. Ranma, he noted, was an uncomplaining student, a welcome change
from Tenchi, who often complained about the unfairness of life, and the
harshness of his training. Katsuhito laughed inwardly, as he led the way
back to the house to make lunch, picturing Tenchi's reaction to the kind
of training regimen Ranma was being put through. 

Lunch was simple, as Katsuhito pulled out pre-prepared meals from the
freezer, and heated them, mentioning casually to Ranma that he was a
terrible cook. It was much safer to simply have Tenchi prepare and
freeze meals than to actually attempt to fix a meal for himself. Even so
Katsuhito sighed in memory. Achika had made the most heavenly meals, he
thought sadly.

As they ate, Ranma sat in thought, running over the forms in his mind,
and considering how to integrate them into his style, and how they fit
with the earlier forms he had been taught, and the attacks he had
learned from sparring with Katsuhito. He did not ask Katsuhito any
questions about them. He had decided, after the sparring session, that
it would be more effective to simply incorporate them and see how they
did, rather than trying to make Katsuhito do his thinking for him.
Improving his own skills at integrating foreign styles was really as
important as learning the styles in the first place, as that swift
adaptability was a fundamental aspect of his school of the art. 

After lunch, they returned to the upper court, before the shrine, and
sparred again. Ranma incorporated the new forms he had been introduced
to, recognizing some of them as the basis for the attacks Katsuhito had
used on him. Having the basics for the attacks gave him more clarity
into their purpose and intent, and into what they were designed to
counter. 

Katsuhito noted the significant improvement in Ranma's defenses, as the
various attacks, defenses, and forms he had learned were finally being
melded into a cohesive whole, wielded in concert, rather than as
individually chosen and executed moves, as they had been in the first
sparring session.

By the end of the first hour, Ranma was no longer receiving constant
bruises, though Katsuhito still made it through his defenses 
occasionally. 

As the second hour drew to a close, Katsuhito realized that he was
steadily pulling out new moves to break through Ranma's defenses, as he
was no longer able to penetrate the boy's defense using the moves his
teishi had already seen. Even the new moves were being observed by the
inimitable youth, who slipped them in amongst his other attacks,
occasionally after only a single viewing. While these new attacks were
as yet not integrated into the overall style, they were still introduced
far more smoothly than the new attacks had been in the earlier spar,
since Ranma had a comfortable suite of moves with which to lead into and
out of any given sequence he wanted to try.

Katsuhito drew subtly on the power of Jurai to enhance his own stamina,
keeping the sparring going for even longer than they had the first time.
As they neared the end of the fifth hour, he sensed his teishi finally
approaching the edge of exhaustion. He stopped him again, and they
returned, sore and aching, to the bath.

When they exited the bath, Katsuhito noted that his grandson was home,
and sending Ranma off to practice on his own, went in search of Tenchi.
He found him in his room, working on schoolwork. Katsuhito walked up
behind him and set his hand lightly on Tenchi's shoulder, who jumped out
of his chair with a choked cry. "Aaaah! Grandfather, don't do that,"
scolded Tenchi, "you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Katsuhito smiled evilly at Tenchi, who groaned in anticipation of the
upcoming pain, as light flashed off his grandfather's rectangular
wire-rimmed glasses. "When you finish your chores, Tenchi, bring Ranma
to the shrine. I want you to spar with him."

Tenchi grinned happily. He had a sparring partner again! Just what he
wanted, and he wouldn't have to deal with all the bruises Katsuhito
would give him. After all, Ranma was just a beginner... Tenchi would be
far better than him... right?

---

Tenchi grew steadily more impressed over the next few weeks, as Ranma
quickly mastered his sword forms. He was even more impressed when
Katsuhito took Ranma's sword, the Dragon Fang, and instructed Ranma on
its use. When Ranma finally said that he felt he had mastered the blade,
Katsuhito had simply smiled at him, and taking Dragon Fang in his
hand, he had looked at it for a moment, and it had suddenly become a
golden katana. "You have only just begun," he replied.

Tenchi watched with interest as Ranma trained and swiftly came to master
his weapon as a bokken, a katana, a wakizashi, a bo staff, nunchaku,
and a naginata. He was very impressed when Ranma trained with it as a no
dachi, a Japanese great sword bigger than he was. It was then that he
really began to get an idea of how physically strong Ranma was. But
nothing impressed him as much as when Ranma used Dragon Fang to
summon/create the Dragon Armor, which molded to Ranma like a second skin
of golden steel. It wasn't the armor that impressed him really, as much
as Ranma's amazing ability to perform his katas wearing it, in utter
silence, and to still leap twenty feet at a time down the stairs while
wearing it. Of course, Tenchi was unaware that the armor, though it
looked like heavy metal armor, unwieldy and unmistakeably weighty, was
in fact as light and easy to wear as the silk clothing that Ranma
preferred.

He was quietly disappointed when Katsuhito finally pronounced Ranma
the Dragon Fang's master after only three months of training. Ranma
seemed quite happy to finally be able to return to his home. Tenchi had
hoped he might be willing to stay longer, as he had enjoyed having Ranma
around, and had enjoyed having another partner to spar with. 

---

"You mastered the Dragon Fang in only three months. I am proud of you,
Ranma. You have done well," Lady Alana said, smiling at him. He had
returned and awakened her, as he had done every week, and then told her
the wonderful news. "I see that you have learned much from Masaki
Tenchi, as well. Your speech is much cleaner than it was when I first
met you."

"Yes, Lady. He was very well-spoken and polite, and I was glad to be his
friend. I taught him a little about fighting unarmed... a few basic
katas. He has great potential, though his potential as a swordsman is
most impressive," he smiled up at her, "but I still wish you would tell
me how Katsuhito knew of the Dragon Fang, and Fey. You know, at first,
he refused to teach me. He thought I was Fey's son, and he said he would
never teach one who had Fey's blood. Since I've gotten to know him, he
seems so mild. Fey must really have been terrible for Katsuhito to
dislike him so."

"He was, Ranma, he was. But now, I have another task for you. You wish
to continue your training, and I promised to bring masters here to train
you." 

Ranma nodded at her, waiting for her to continue. He could almost feel
the 'But...' coming, and feared she was about to say that she could
not do so. 

"For me to do so, you must do something first. The realm Fey rules has
long been considered off-limits to outsiders. The only ones who come
here, are those who wanted to challenge Fey, to take what was his.
Before I can convince any masters to come and train you, we must make
peace with the Court of Farallon. They are our largest neighbor. If we
make peace with them, others will follow their lead, and then we will be
able to send envoys to the masters, without having them attacked and 
slain on the road."

"It will not be easy, Ranma. They will have great difficulty respecting
you, or believing that you have in fact defeated Fey, and taken his
lands. They will see you at first as a joke that Fey is trying to pull
on them. You will probably have to fight King Dei's champion, Lord Roga,
to even get an audience with the king."

"I will travel with you, and my word will hold some weight, but it will
still fall to you to convince them. As much as possible, you must let
me speak for you, for I know how to avoid giving offense. When
necessary, focus on what you learned from Tenchi, and avoid uncouth
speech. They will take it as an insult, if you speak to them thus. Do
you understand?"

"Yes, Lady. I will do as you say. I must train, and if to train, I must
convince these Lords that I am who I say I am, then I will do so. But
I thank Kami-sama that I can do it by fighting," he replied, seriously,
then, laughing, continued, "Tenchi or no, I am not good with words."

"Did Masaki show you the secrets of the Dragon Armor, Ranma?" 

"Yes, Lady. I can summon it," Ranma replied. 

"Good. Fey was well-known for Dragon Fang and the Dragon Armon. It will
be a token of truth, to those who do not let their prejudices blind
them, that you bear them."

The Lady did not speak of her private concerns. She could not question
the word of Masaki. If he said that Ranma had mastered the Dragon Fang,
then that was true. But how? How could he possibly have mastered the
weapon in three months? It seemed impossible. The Dragon Fang was
capable of becoming almost any martial weapon. She had not expected
Masaki to train Ranma in every weapon... but the most common ones. She
had read the report Masaki sent back with Ranma. Fifteen... he had
mastered the use of the Dragon Fang as fifteen different weapons, in
only three months.

She had heard pretty much the whole story of Ranma's early training, and
knew well the rate at which he seemed to learn. While she felt certain
that Masaki could not help but be a better teacher than Genma, he too
had written that he had never had a student as quick to learn as Ranma.
To satisfy his own curiosity, he had researched the boy's lineage, and
sent the results to her as well. Ranma was a perfectly normal human.
There was no question about it. He was descended from a long line of
martial artists, on both sides of his family, and was in fact the heir
to a katana fighting style, on his mother's side, though he did was not
aware of it. But there was nothing in his heritage to explain his
unbelievable capacity to learn. 

Further, Masaki was quite skilled at observing and judging the skill
level of martial artists. He had watched Ranma perform his katas, and
assured her that Ranma was not yet used to performing them at the speed
he now could, nor was his skill in them in inhuman excess of what might
be expected after two years of hard training. The katas he knew, he
could perform nearly flawlessly, until he began moving at full speed.
But he did not seem to know many of the advanced katas of his school. He
had been a prodigy, there was no question, yet not to this degree. Had
he been learning at this rate while with Genma, he would be far more
skilled.

Masaki also mentioned that by the time Ranma had returned, he seemed
perfectly comfortable in his katas at full speed, and had incorporated
what he learned from his sword forms into his unarmed katas. However,
these changes did not disturb Masaki, as they fit the level of his
natural ability as Masaki had judged it. Without whatever had happened
to him in the other world, he would still, Masaki judged, have been
steadily incorporating whatever he had been trained into his fighting
style, and into his katas.

The Lady did not speak of these concerns to Ranma, but while the
preparations for the imminent confrontations proceeded, and Ranma
practiced his katas, with and without weapons, she sought out a seeress
in one of the nearby villages. 

When she returned, she was only slightly less disturbed. A divine gift
for the martial arts? It seemed clear that whatever change had occurred,
had happened the night he had defeated Fey. She could not imagine why it
would result in his receiving a divine gift. What god or goddess would
be so pleased with Fey's demise as to give the mortal who defeated him
such a gift? 

She sighed, and put it from her mind, deciding to concentrate and focus
on the approaching difficulties with the Court of Farallon. She hoped
that they would be able to achieve their goal without Ranma being forced
to kill again. She dreaded what it might do to him.

---

Krall lounged on the heavy stone seat at the rear of the cavern,
watching the two new recruits facing off against older blood. This was
just too rich. The new Lord of Fey seemed to be purging his army, and
Krall had been steadily picking up new recruits. His group of bandits
was growing by leaps and bounds, and nearly every member had military
training and combat experience.

While he focused his activities on the two kingdoms opposite Farallon,
which were the only two not to have suffered an attack from the Lord Fey
in the last thirty years, he had steadily worked his spies into the
other nations as well, and soon he would have spies within Farallon
itself. 

He wasn't avoiding it because it had been the last to be attacked, but
because Farallon was the site of the accursed Mage Tower, the
independent group of powerful mages that had plagued his earlier
campaigns. No, he was content, for now, to build his connections,
steadily grow his political power, while living high on the hog as the
leader of this surprisingly competent bandit army. 

It was delightful, he thought, comparing this band to the one he had
lead nearly seventy years before, just prior to entering Fey's service.
That band had been rag-tag, rough men to be sure, but brawlers, not
fighters, and dense. He had been forced to be present on nearly every
foray, to prevent them from walking into enemy hands with their
stupidity and drunken insubordination.

Now, with Fey's rejects, he had built himself a banditry that actually
contained enough skill that he was able to form multiple tight groups,
give them difficult missions, and listen to reports of success, without
involving himself! Of course, that's not to say he didn't get involved.
The tightest band of rogues in the joint was his group of Howling
Wolves. Yes, life was good... and it would be better still when he had
exterminated that runt of a Lordling.