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Neko-ken. Cat-fu. Cat-Fist fighting.
A powerful—nay, undefeatable—form of martial combat, and one or Ranma’s greater tragedies… following, of course, his Jusenkyo curse, his father, and his horrid case of "foot in mouth desease".
Ever since Genma’s (arguably second) most foolish training exercise, the sight or proximity of a cat has sent Ranma first into fits of terror, then fearful flight, then paralysis, then, finally, to the warped state of mind where he becomes both cat and master of cat-fist.
This is NOT the way things are meant to be. One who has received the -proper- training has no fear of cats… but, rather, often loves the small felines (and felines of all sorts, for that matter) and has an odd affinity for and kinship with them.
Very few are ever selected to be trained in the art of Neko-ken. Fewer still have the potential to actually learn it… fewer still can ever be called masters.
Consequently, it didn’t take very long for the single, solitary school which taught it—located even as remotely as it is—to catch word of Ranma, and the whole mess tangled therein…
"Xian Mao!" called one of the many, many monks who—logically enough—populated the Wang-Mao-Yue temple.
Xian Mao looked up from his meditations upon the idol of Mao-Yue, the feline goddess to whom he owed allegiance. Not yet eighteen, and the only non-monk in the temple, he was a marvel to the monks, yet those facts and his long black hair had nothing to do with why he was so unique.
"Yes, Elder?" he asked. Despite his calm, respectful tone, the rebelliousness of a youth interrupted still came through… even if only in his eyes and his aura.
"A way for you to repay your debt has come to our attention." The Elder paused, "That is, of course, assuming that you still want to leave?"
"With all due respect, Elder," the boy replied with a small smile, "I do still wish to leave. There is Someone out there for me, and many tasks before me. You have taught me much, and allowed me to see many things. Could I truly repay you by staying here?
"No, elder, I must go out into the world. The time is soon.
"What is this task you have for me?"
The Elder smiled at the irony of the situation: this boy, whom he had personally rescued from the streets and named, whom he had selected to be his pupil and successor, who had mastered everything he had learned here at the Wang-Mao-Yue temple, and reached a spiritual plane that even he—the Elder—had yet to achieve, who had done the unbelievable and become the first in Generations to master the Neko-ken… a mastery which was obvious in his every movement, the very lines of his body, and, most clearly, his silver-blue slit-pupil eyes.
"You are aware, I believe, that there are many who train in the Neko-ken and fail to achieve mastery, are you not?"
"Of course, Elder. They are invariably killed in the process."
"That is what we have always held to be true. There appears, however, to be an exception…"
Xian Mao tugged at his short goatee and adjusted his glasses. He couldn’t quite decide who he felt more sorry for: this Saotome Genma, for being so incredibly stupid, or his son Ranma, for being subjected to that idiocy… Ranma, he decided quickly: the Gods watched over fools, not their victims.
"Elder, you need not even have asked. To correct Saotome Ranma’s training is my duty, privilege, and honor."
"I suspected you might feel that way," answered the old monk, smiling. "You are a noble soul, Xian Mao. There is one more thing, before you go."
"Yes?"
"Don’t forget to write."
On the roof of the Tendou Dojo, at very nearly midnight, Ranma slowly worked his way through a complex series of Katas.
Today had been BAD, by any standards. First, even before school had started, Kodachi had decided to get a jump on things by catching him early… even before he’d woken up. Of course, when they’d found the two in "in bed together", everyone had overreacted… as if it had been HIS fault, or something. He couldn’t help the way Kodachi acted… any more that he could have stopped Shampoo from accosting him at lunch, demanding that he eat her ramen—a risk in and of itself, most likely laced with magical herbs or some such; but with the prospect of eating what Akane had made for him on the other hand…
Not, of course, that he’d been given the chance to chose one, the other, or neither: before he could recover from Shampoo’s bicycle landing on his face, Akane had stormed off.
He’d even tried apologizing after school, but Ukyou had interrupted THAT affair.
Then Kuno, seeing Akane scream at him and storm off, had decided to vanquish the Vile Sorcerer Saotome…
Then Ryouga at the dojo that evening…
A bad day indeed, and something told Ranma that it would get worse before it got better… assuming that it ever did.