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It took Nabiki less than ten minutes to hear about the new boy: about Ranma’s height, closer to Ryouga’s build, dressed in Chinese clothes and a strange sleeveless coat that hung to his ankles; not incredibly handsome, but hardly painful to look upon. Thick black hair that hung to his shoulders, a short pointed goatee, small circular glasses, eerie, silver-blue, slit-pupil eyes, and a strange, fluid, powerful grace of movement that made no few of her compatriots hungry for Chinese. No, no one was thinking takeout… well, maybe you could call it that.
At lunch, Nabiki learned a little more from Akane. The boy’s name was Xian Mao, and he had incredibly acute hearing. There were a few more details that a few sharp-eared and sharp-eyed friends of her own had picked up a few more tidbits from that morning as well.
The new boy had approached Ukyou, talked briefly with her. He’d whispered something in her ear, something that had annoyed or embarrassed Ukyou, to judge the look on her face and the idle way she’d swiped at the boy—this Xian Mao—with her battle spatula. He’d taken it seriously, and struck back. Twice, once across the face, one in the ribs. Then Ukyou had kicked his ass into the ground.
He’d staggered to his feet, then walked to the wall to talk more.
He’d then identified Akane, as if by reputation.
This involved her. Nabiki knew it as surely as she knew that there was profit to be gained from the newcomer. There was just something in her that said so.
Over the past two years, and especially since Ranma had arrived, she’d learned to trust that something.
Xian Mao found his way back to the Neko-hanten just as the lunch rush ended. He hadn’t actually been doing much, just trying to get a feel for the lay of the land.
"Greetings, honored matriarch," he said, bowing respectfully. Customers looked askance at him, but ate without comment. People living in Nerima seemed to be good at ignoring that which went on around them.
Cologne merely nodded to him. ‘Honored matriarch’ was a title she had missed since coming to Japan. Hearing it again was gratifying to her ego.
"<I have come to tell you that I have found another place to stay, and that I will no longer be disturbing you with my humble presence.>" he spoke in Chinese, deciding on the spur of the moment that it would be better.
"<Truly?>" Cologne asked, raising an eyebrow. "<Where have you found to stay?>"
"<As assistant to the honorable Dr. Tofu. I have only one last thing to beg of your hospitality.>"
"<Oh?>"
"<I wished to know if you perhaps had a knife or two, of the throwing variety, that I might borrow until I acquire some of my own.>"
Cologne merely nodded. Like lightning, a pair of throwing knives appeared in her hand, and were sent arcing toward him. He had three choices: let them hit, and die; dodge, and loose face; or catch them, and perhaps tip his hand.
He chose the third.
He slid two ‘steps’ into the Neko-ken: from his normal, heightened state of existence, through and past the Claw that had earned the mysterious art it’s name, and into the First Phase. Movement. With reflexes beyond what were considered fantastic by all save the greatest martial artists, Xian Mao shifted to the side, and seemed to bat at the suddenly slow-seeming blades, catching them by the tips and flipping them as he brought his hand back up so that he held them between his fingers like claws. He slid back a ‘step’, into the cat-like mind and movements of the Claw. His other hand hit the floor, and the battle stance that had earned the Cat Fist it’s name.
Xian Mao growled low in his throat, before resuming a human stance.
"I am impressed," the matriarch conceded.
Xian Mao nodded, and walked up to the spare room where he had stowed his small pack of belongings.
By the end of the day, Nabiki and her associates had managed to squeeze all the information possible out of Akane and Ukyou, subtly probing for anything useful or profitable.
This Xian Mao had -known- ,somehow, that Ukyou was a girl. Despite her revealed gender and identity, the okonomiyaki chef still bound her breasts and ‘faked’ masculinity at school… very well, Nabiki had to admit, for such an attractive girl.
He was also looking for Ranma. Something about information to pass on.
Nabiki didn’t believe it for a second.
Like Ukyou, she had her suspicions about the boy and possible relations/alliances with the Amazons. And that was the last thing anyone needed.
Having stowed his things back at Dr. Tofu’s clinic, in the spare room, Xian Mao meandered back to Furinken.
He had gathered from the good doctor that Ranma and Akane usually walked to school together. That, combined with the things he’d heard this morning, painted an ugly image of what might be going on with Ranma at the moment. Something had happened to him, probably life threatening.
But he had no way of knowing.
Xian Mao watched the students file out of the gates, all clearly grateful that school was out for the day. Mind distracted and wandering, he almost didn’t notice the two figures that came up behind him. One grabbed each arm. They were female, he could smell it, but fortunately not fertile… he had had more than enough of that distraction this morning with Ukyou.
He didn’t bother trying to escape. He assumed they wanted something, and if it was something he didn’t care to give… very little could hold him in, should he choose to invoke the Neko-ken.
"Boss wants to see you," one of the girls whispered in his ear. "Are you coming nicely, or do we have to go back for Biff and Tiny?"
"Might as well come quietly," he murmured back. "Where?"
"Follow."
The two girls led Xian Mao to a secluded area near the back of the school property. Waiting for them was a young woman with jaw-length brown hair and piercing eyes. Brilliant intelligence gleamed behind those eyes, beautiful black set in a lovely face, with a figure to match.
Shit, he thought, why does she have to be so damned -distracting-?
The same, of course, could be said of the two girls who had attached themselves to his arms. Their auras against his was almost as distracting as their soft bodies against his.
Struggling, Xian Mao found his Center, Balancing and trying to fight down the animal urges that were one of the disadvantages of his calling… the Cat Fist.
"Your name is Xian Mao," the girl informed him. "You talked with Kuonji Ukyou this morning, revealed her as a girl, fought briefly against her, then got your ass kicked. You seemed to know her—or of her—from somewhere. You asked about a boy named Saotome Ranma. Despite what -should- have been a lethal, or at least grievous, battle, you face me as if you’d never been touched.
"Why? Who are you? Why are you here? How do you know of Ranma, Ukyou, and Akane?"
Xian Mao stared at her, incredulous. What? What was going on here? Maybe his Japanese was slipping? Surely this girl’s body was not -that- distracting! Surely he should be able to make some sense of this!
"Na-nani?"
"Answer or I’ll scream rape."
That was it. The Shadow within him began pushing toward the surface.
Xian Mao shrugged, and the girls latched to his arms fell off. Before they could reach the ground, he tapped a pressure point at the base of each of their necks, sending them into unconsiousness.
The remaining girl raised an eyebrow.
"I’ve got a different idea," he said, snarling enough to reveal his short fangs. "Why don’t we trade."
Nabiki quirked an eyebrow. She’d seen Ranma—hell, Ryouga, for that matter—move faster. But the liquid, boneless grace impressed her. Not even Ranma could move like that.
"Trade?" she asked sardonically.
"Yes," he answered, "trade. Information. Fact for fact, question for question."
Nabiki’s eyes gleamed evilly. "Deal. I ask first."
"Agreed."
"Who are you?"
"I am Xian Mao of the Wang-Mao-Yue temple, in China. And you are?"
"Tendou Nabiki, of the Tendou household."
Xian Mao nodded. Nabiki asked again:
"Why are you here?"
"I have come to find Ranma." As the Shadow has risen, so had his male urges fallen. The Shadow was genderless, and perfectly Centered. That suited Xian Mao just fine, so long as he could keep the Shadow under control… as difficult, though not as distracting. "Where can I find him?"
"Lot’s of places. He’s here a lot, usually."
Technically, she had answered. Okay, so that was the game.
"What do you want with Ranma?" she asked, calm, calculating.
"I have information to impart. Why do you care?"
"Because I it pertains to me."
This shit was getting old. Xian Mao began to level his Will against her, trying to eke more revealing answers from her… and slammed against an expertly constructed, if unconsciously so, wall. Not even with the Shadow welling within him, could his code allow him to break down that wall.
"How do you know of Ranma?" she asked next.
"By reputation." Two could play that game. "What is Ranma to you?"
"Profit." Nabiki said, smiling coldly. "How did you recognize Ukyou?"
"By smell," he told her, deciding that the absolute truth was unbelievable enough that telling didn’t hurt anything. "She’s fertile at the moment. That, obviously, meant she was female. That plus the spatula identified her as Kuonji Ukyou."
"How did you know of her, and Akane?"
Xian Mao just -looked- at her. "It’s my turn to ask. What do you know of Ranma’s situation?"
"Everything."
Nabiki smiled as this Xian Mao stormed off.
"You are useless," he’d told her.
"Maybe to you, baby," she mumbled. "But you seem pretty damn useful to me."
Kneeling down, Nabiki checked on her cohorts. Good, they were still alive. She’d have been truly upset had he damaged them. Ah, good. It looked like they were coming to.
He’d been smart, she had to grant him that, but she’d still learned much. Women distracted him, though he was good at hiding it. He had a temper, but could focus it to useful purpose. He was willing to take calculated risks, giving information in hopes of getting more, but never anything truly useful. And there was no way she could see to interpret "information to impart" to mean that he was after Ranma’s hide. That was the important part… because right now, someone trying to kill Ranma was the last thing they needed.
Xian Mao was, needless to say, upset. He’d just wasted a nice chunk of the afternoon giving up information and getting none in return. He wished he could blame his failure on the fact that Nabiki was a beautiful young woman, but the truth of the matter was that she’d outdone him. She was a shrewd bargainer, and didn’t follow any of the rules of informational barter that he knew. He’d tricked and wheedled a few Imps in his time, and was incredibly proud of the one Demon he’d outsmarted in his experimentation with Summoning, before the Elder had caught him. But he suspected that this Nabiki was on par, if not above, with that Demon… and he had clearly lost. That upset him.
Xian Mao did not like being upset. So he worked it off, running back to Dr. Tofu’s clinic, jumping into and through any trees he encountered on the way, and dashing along fences.
When he arrived, he felt much better, if just slightly winded.
"Doctor, I think there’s something wrong with Ranma." He could hear a girl’s worried voice on the other side of the door to Tofu’s workroom. Xian Mao focused, listening carefully.
"What’s the matter, Akane?" Ah, so that’s where he’d heard that voice before: this morning.
"I don’t know, Doctor! Everything was getting even crazier than usual this past week, and then yesterday he lost a duel with Ryouga... now he won’t talk to anyone, he doesn’t want to eat, and…" Akane began choking up.
"All he dose is just -sit there-," she wailed at last. "He won’t come out of the dojo, and he won’t talk to anyone… he won’t even fight with his father!"
It didn’t take an empath to tell that Akane cared for this Ranma. What took an empath was to tell that not only did she care for him, she loved him with every fiber of her being and denied it just as passionately. Xian Mao, being a telepath and a general sensitive in addition to an empath, was nearly bowled over physically as well as psychically by the incredible ‘volume’ and strength of her thoughts and emotions. Desperately, he closed off -everything-, trying to block out the painfully loud mind and aura of Tendou Akane.
Tofu and Akane talked for a little bit more, but Xian Mao didn’t listen in. He’d learned what he needed to know.
Tendou Akane didn’t look up as the doctor led her to the door. When Tofu came back in he saw Xian Mao.
"How long have you been here?"
"Since ‘Doctor, I think there’s something wrong with Ranma’."
Tofu nodded. "Do you usually eavesdrop?"
"No. But I have sharp ears, and after hearing that, I thought there might be something important."
The doctor frowned. "Was there?"
"Quite a lot. I learned why everyone is edgy to have someone new looking for Ranma, I learned that he’s going through a depressive cycle at the moment, and I learned that Shampoo and Ukyou’s primary claim on Ranma—that Akane doesn’t care for him—is completely null and void."
Tofu nodded, smiling slightly. "You picked up on that last bit awful fast. In fact, you’re probably the only one besides myself to notice."
"Being an empath helps," the young man confessed. "Besides that, I have no stake in which he chooses, save that it may influence my ability to correct his training."
Tofu nodded again. "Very well. But if you’re going to be working for and living with me, try and make a point of not eavesdropping."
"Of course, Tofu-sensei." Xian Mao bowed, then looked toward the door. "With your permission, however, I think I’ll go chase her. I would really like to talk with Ranma as soon as possible…"
"Greetings, Tendou Akane. Might I walk with you?"
At first, she thought the formal words were Kuno-sempai, but something was wrong. He wasn’t glomping her. She turned around to see the new boy… Xian Mao, his name was.
"I guess, why?"
"I was hoping you might lead me to Ranma," he confessed.
"So am I not worth talking to for myself," she fumed, clenching her fists.
Xian Mao calmly met her eyes. "To be honest, Tendou Akane, I do not know you… or Ranma for that matter. Am I in a position to make that judgment?"
Akane blushed. "I guess not. I’m sorry. I’m just jumpy today."
Xian Mao nodded.
"My beauteous Tendou Akane! There you are! Yes, I shall date with thee!"
Akane rolled her eyes skyward as some madman dressed in a blue and white gi came rushing at them, bokken in one hand, roses in the other. Xian Mao could do not but gape. When it became clear that who ever this was was about to slam straight into Akane, he intervened. A quick chop at the madman’s shoulder sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Do you know this crazy person?" he asked Akane.
"Yeah. That’s Kuno-sempai. I could have handled him myself, you know."
Xian Mao shrugged. Actually, he -didn’t- know, but was aware that that was most likely not the right answer. "This way you didn’t have to."
"Who are you, cretin, to talk as if I were not here?" the madman was on his feet again, staring down at Xian Mao. "Ah, but is it not custom to give one’s own name first? Fine then, mine I shall give: I am Kuno Tatewake, age 17, Blue Thunder and rising kendo star of the high school fencing world. Speak now: who are you to insult me so, and to speak so familiar with Akane?"
Xian Mao gaped pointing to himself in a ‘who, me?’ fashion.
"<Say what?>" he asked in Chinese.
"Speak not in some barbarian tongue, cretin! Answer now!."
"I am Xian Mao of the Wang-Mao-Yue temple. Priest, monk, and deciple of the Yin Cat Goddess. What the -hell- do you want?"
"Twice, now, you have insulted me! You have spoken in overly familiar fashion with Akane, and I have not given thee permission to do so! I challenge thee!"
Xian Mao’s eyes flashed, and he assumed a fighting position.
"Fool, and insolent you are!" he snarled in response. "Disrespectful to the Gods and their servants! Fool, to try and control a female and all those who would speak with her. Insolent, to challenge a priest! Fool and blasphemer, I name you! I accept your challenge."
Akane and Kuno looked at him in shock, not sure why he was as upset as he was… or what he had meant by ‘insolent, to challenge a priest’. But that arrogant ‘warrior’ glint had reached Kuno’s eyes, and he didn’t think much more about it.
He handed the roses to Akane, and raised his bokken.
Xian Mao found his Center and waited.
‘Never strike first.’ The rule had been pounded into his head by innumerable senseis, some actually of the temple, some visiting. So he waited.
Kuno lunged foreword, bringing the bokken down at his head.
‘Use your opponents energy… his Ki, his force, his weight. Use his, not your own.’ A lesson from Jake, master of Aikido (among other things), who had stopped at the temple a number of times. He’d demonstrated that lesson plenty of times.
Xian Mao sidestepped, and caught the bokken just above where Kuno gripped it, pulling down and toward himself, sending Kuno into a headlong roll. The kendoist—for that was what he clearly was—rolled perfectly, and came to his feet two yards away.
"Strikestrikestrikestrikestrike!" Kuno yelled, stabbing the bokken at him with incredible speed. Xian Mao’s body served him well. Even without accessing the power of the Neko-ken, it was always a part of him, giving amazing speed and dexterity, combined with a fluid boneless grace that never ceased to amaze. Seemingly with little effort (though the seeming was false) Xian Mao evaded the lightning fast blows. A brief pause, and opening, and Xian Mao struck. Using the principles of Tai Chi, he effortlessly pushed Kuno back to arm’s length, then sent him face-first to the ground with a outward crescent kick.
Again, Kuno rolled, and came at him again with the bokken upraised. Xian Mao was not a fool. He knew that if Kuno was using the same attack twice, this time he was prepared for the counter. Consequently, if he used the same counter he had before, Kuno would be ready for it.
So he didn’t.
Instead of stepping aside, he stepped -in-. Akikido, again. Wonderful art, that. And the Japanese had come up with it almost by themselves. As he stepped in, he pushed up Kuno’s arms, making it impossible for him to strike. But Kuno had the advantage of height, and Xian Mao could not quite reach the weapon. So he improvised: he jumped up just before Kuno finished stopping. He caught the weapon, again just above Kuno’s grip, then used the additional height and momentum the jump gave him, along with the inertia of Kuno’s movement to bring Kuno face first into the ground, twisting his wrists to pull the bokken from his hands.
Xian Mao stepped back, bokken held against the back of his arm, and bowed to Kuno.
"You are a worthy opponent."
"Fiend! What foul sorcery have you used to defeat the great Kuno Tatewake?"
"Fiend?" Xian Mao demanded, insulted and outraged. "Sorcery? This was a duel of the art! I used none such. Look, fool, and see true sorcery!"
Around him, Xian Mao’s battle aura erupted: spitting, guttering black, with flashes of pure silver-white running through it. In response, Kuno’s glowed as well: sooty brick-red. Kuno’s aura also surrounded the wooden sword.
"Through practice, contact, and use, Kuno Tatewake, you have bound this weapon to your soul… made it a part of you. Now I make it mine."
Kuno screamed as the red aura unwound from the bokken, swirling erratically, and finding it’s way back to him. As the red aura retreated, Akane could see that it was being -shaved- off of the wooden blade by the black aura. Kuno screamed again as the last of the aura departed from the blade, coming back to his own, and passed out.
The back aura that had covered and conquered the weapon faded from sight.
Akane stared, shocked and horrified, at the Chinese boy. Not only had he defeated Kuno, but he had taken the kendoist’s bokken, and done -something- to him.
"What did you…" she gasped.
"He could not accept defeat," Xian Mao intoned. "For his ego is too great, and too fragile."
The Chinese boy blinked, seeming to come back to reality from some far away place.
"<Anyway…>" he muttered, in Chinese, then switched to Japanese, grinning. "So. What was that about ‘I shall date with thee’? I thought you were Ranma’s."
"I don’t belong to that pervert!" She screamed, then attacked him with her mallet. He sidestepped, and struck out with a palm strike. Akane was already there to block it. He followed up with a roundhouse kick, which she ducked under, responding with a furious series of punches and kicks. Block, evade, block… Xian Mao found an opening and struck. But Akane had seen the hole as well, and was there to defend it, and struck out again with a kick to his head. Xian Mao ducked, and kicked her foot out from under her.
Akane fell, and used her momentum and position on the ground to kick at Xian Mao’s own feet, a trick she’d seen Ranma use. It worked, and the Chinese boy tumbled to the ground.
And surprised her by being back on his feet before she was.
Xian Mao fell back into a defensive position.
"Is there any particular reason that we’re fighting?" he asked, quirking his head at her. "Although, I must say you’re pretty damn good."
"Because you said…!" then she stopped. "What did you say?"
"Well, first I teased you that you were Ranma’s, and what was up with this Kuno guy here—something I’d still like to know—and then, I asked if there was any reason we were trying to beat the shit out of each other, and said that you were good."
"Oh." Akane said, not sure how to handle actually -talking- with a guy, as opposed to beating up or arguing with one…
Xian Mao was just glad his instincts had overrun his hormones. Damn, this girl was pretty. She seemed to be nice, too, despite a violent temper. Neither Shampoo or Ukyou had mentioned that… of course, he realized, they both had agendas and weren’t likely to be giving him the full scoop.
He damned himself for not having thought of that earlier. He’d taken what the two had said at face value… likely as much because they were aesthetically pleasing, as anything else. He’d have to watch that… pun not intended.
"Anyway, like I was saying. I wanted to find Ranma, and I was hoping you might be able to introduce us."
"I don’t know," Akane said, thinking. "He’s… not been feeling well lately…"
"I need to talk to him, Akane-san. I have come to complete his training in the Neko-ken…"
It was raining, now. It had looked all day as if it might, and it had started about half way between Tofu’s clinic and the Tendou Dojo.
"… can you tell me precisely how Ranma’s father trained him? Our friends who told us of the Saotomes didn’t say exactly what training methods were used."
Akane nodded. "Ranma was six. His father wrapped him in fish sausage and threw him into a pit full of hungry cats. When it didn’t work the first time, Mr. Saotome decided ‘well, if you don’t succeed at first…’"
Xian Mao twitched, and finished the old adage, a look of black rage crossing his face. "’…try, try, again’. May the Gods forefend, we thought that might have been it, but…"
He just shook his head. How could a father do that to his son? His own flesh and blood…
Of course, his own mother had abandoned him to the winter, but somehow that seemed different.
"Let’s go inside," Akane suggested. "The rain may have convinced Ranma to come in… and if not, Kasumi probably has dinner ready."
"Sort of early, isn’t it?"
"We eat earlier than most. Come on, let’s get you dried off."
"Oh, hello, Akane," Kasumi said, smiling brightly, "is this a friend from school?"
Akane shook her head. "Sort of, Kasumi-oneechan. This is Xian Mao. He’s…"
"That’s nice, would he like to stay for dinner?"
Anane looked at him and nodded vehemently. He hadn’t eaten yet today, and munchies was something he’d gotten used to since arriving in Japan. He was, after all, a seventeen year old boy. They tend to eat a lot, as you may know.
Ranma wasn’t at the table, and even though Xian Mao had never eaten with (or even met) the Tendous before, he could tell that they were subdued and trying to put on a good face for their guest.
Xian Mao was content to go along with the charade. He chatted amiably, and no one asked why he’d come. They stayed on polite, safe topics such as the weather, and politics. Granted, Xian Mao only nodded and agreed about the latter, but a ‘yes man’ was always important to a political conversation.
He had to avoid looking at Nabiki, however. She’d traded her modest school uniform for a tank top that showed a good deal of cleavage and jean-shorts that showed more leg than he’d seen since he walked through the bad side of Tokyo.
She seemed to revel in his discomfort, but he wasn’t about to let his control slip. That would be disrespectful to his hosts, and he didn’t want that.
The Tendous seemed to have a pet panda as well. The odd part was that he ate human food and sat at the table like a member of the family.
Xian Mao finally decided to get down to business.
"Excuse me," he said as Kasumi began to clear the table. "But I was under the impression that Saotome Genma and his son Ranma lived here. May I talk to them?"
They looked around, uncomfortable. "Saotome-san isn’t around right now," said Soun, the head of the house nervously. "But Ranma should be in the dojo practicing… he didn’t care to eat this evening."
Xian Mao nodded, accepting the story at face value: a cover.
"Thank you for the hospitality and the wonderful food. May I go look for Ranma?"
He was hoping he wasn’t breaking -too- many rules of Japanese etiquette, but they didn’t seem to mind, so he got up and went to the dojo.
It was still raining, but he didn’t really mind. After being hailed on for three days straight on a mountainous training trip when he was thirteen, he honestly didn’t care what Mother Nature threw at him, so long as the temperature remained under ninety.
A very attractive young woman with a braided ponytail sat on the steps of the dojo, mindless of the rain as himself. She, too, wore Chinese clothes… black pants and a red top.
"Hello, miss," he said, glad that the rain was dampening any distracting smells she might be putting off… the wet clothes clinging to her rounded boy were quite distraction enough. There was something funny about her aura, though…
"Yeah?" she answered sullenly.
"Could you tell me where Saotome Ranma is?"
"Right here," she grumbled, still not looking up.
"Excuse me?" he asked, wondering. "I had been under the impression that Ranma was male."
"I am… just not right now."
Xian Mao looked at her askance for a few moments, then decided to *lean* subtly on the girls mind, hoping for more useful answers: "Care to explain that last comment?"
The girl looked up at him with brilliant, dark blue eyes. "Ever heard of Jhusenkyou?"
Xian Mao was astonished. Jhusenkyou? Of course he’d heard of Jhusenkyou! What astonished him more than anything, was that someone had been fool enough to get themselves cursed!
"Hey," Ranma asked the strange boy. "You hear me?"
She’d been sitting here in the rain peacefully for nearly an hour. Glad for the silence and the aloneness, but somehow inutterably lonely. She’d told Akane this morning, in no uncertain terms, to go away and leave her/him alone. Now, she’d not talked to anyone all day. Just alternated between crying, training, meditating, and thinking… more of the first two than the second.
Then this boy had come up… she’d never seen him before. But he wanted something from her/him, but didn’t know about the curse.
"Ever heard of Jhusenkyou?" the words had come out unbidden. She hadn’t intended to answer at all… if he didn’t know, he didn’t need to. But -something- had opened her mouth, and the floodgate, once unbarred, was hard to close.
"I asked if you’d heard of Jhusenkyou!"
"I know of the training ground of accursed springs. Nyanniichuan, then?"
Ranma nodded. He knew… the shock and horror that filled this new boy’s voice said quiet clearly that he knew.
"You fall in one too?" the girl/boy asked.
"No. I know of it by reputation and legend. My people had an argument, actually, with the Joketsuzoku Amazons that involved the Springs… and a few other oddities. No one from my temple has been there for nearly five hundred years.
"So… care to tell me how you fell in?"
Again, Ranma might not have opened his mouth… she didn’t know this boy, after all. She didn’t even know his name. But -something- pushed her on, making her speak when she might have stayed silent. Ranma decided that it was just the need to tell -someone-… anyone, what was wrong with his life, and maybe just leave it in their hands to be fixed… it couldn’t get worse, after all… could it?
"It was one of Oyaji’s stupid ideas… a training ground in China… one of several we visited…"
And Ranma told the tale of how he was cursed. It was the first time, probably, that she/he’d actually talked it out instead of just buzzing over it with a couple demonstrations and a few quips about his/her ‘stupid old man’. Which is not to say that Ranma did not condemn her father… she cursed him roundly, and damned him often.
But when she was finished, she felt much better.
Ranma hadn’t noticed when the new boy had sat down beside her.
"What’s your name, anyway?" she demanded, annoyed that she’d just spilled her guts to someone she didn’t even know.
"I am called Xian Mao. You don’t like your father, do you?"
They were both soaked to the skin, and the rain showed no intention of letting up. Xian Mao opened his Other Senses, hoping to catch an indication that the rain would end soon, or at least glean more from Ranma… who seemed to think almost as loudly as Akane.
"I…" Ranma stopped, confused by this strange urge to open his heart up to this boy. He gave up… he needed -someone- to talk to, and until he learned otherwise, this boy seemed to have nothing against him. "I… I suppose I should love him. He’s my father and all… but after Jhusenkyou, and the Amazons, and what he did to Ukyou, and what to all those other people he engaged me to… and the c-cat…"
"The Cat Fist training?" Xian Mao prompted.
"How di-?" Ranma demanded, suddenly suspicious, wondering if she’d mislaid trust.
"The Neko-ken is taught at one place… only one. That is the Temple of Wang-Mao-Yue. That is the temple where I was raised. Around two and a half months ago, we received a letter from one of our more frequent visitors… a man named Jake. He’d heard about a fight on a beach, where a boy by the name of Saotome Ranma who used the Cat Fist. They decided to send someone to complete your training… that someone is me. I am the first to… what is the word? Absolute knowledge of, complete control of…"
"Master?" Ranma suggested, "Mastery?"
"Master," Xian Mao nodded. "I am the first to master the Cat Fist in five hundred years."
"Okay," Ranma said, still uncertain. "If they found out two months ago, why are you only here just now?"
"Ranma, I walked. Many would consider walking from the Northeastern most part of China to here in that little time to be something of an accomplishment.