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Ranma awoke to find Xian Mao sitting over him. The priest had changed clothes, and most likely bathed (given his damp hair) since the Cat Fu had taken him. Ranma wondered how much time had passed.
"Xian-kun?" Ranma groaned. For some reason, his entire body ached… this hadn’t ever happened before, any of the times he’d lost awareness to the Neko-ken. Actually, he’d usually woken up somewhat refreshed. "What happened…?"
"I found a way to wake you up. Unpeasant side afects?"
"No…" Other than the fact that all of me hurts! Ranma thought to himself.
"It’s painful, then? Hmmm…. I’ll have to think of a way around that…"
The True Cat Fist
by Jeff Groves
Chapter Eight: Choices
Part One: Setting the Stage
neko-sama@juno.com
Ranma blinked. There was something wrong… he hadn’t mentioned that he hurt out lout, had he? Had he slipped into that kind of weakness?
"I have a proposition for you, Ranma."
"You what?"
"Ranma, if you were given the opportunity for, say, an hour alone with Akane—no interruptions, no spies, nothing—would you take it? An opportunity to talk, to find out just what it was you wanted out of your relationship? Be it friendship, marriage, utter separation, whatever?"
A slight pause as Ranma thought. Then, with no hesitation whatsoever, "Yes."
"After school tomorrow, in the dojo."
The sun had long ago set over Nerima as Xian Mao sat in silent meditation by the Koi pond, drawing Power into himself, and beginning the Weavings of the spells he would use to protect the dojo. The spell would be incredibly complex; involving Wardings against every conceivable form of interruption or spying, a way to put it up later, instead of immediately after the spell was cast, and most difficult of all, a way to bring it down from the inside. It would also be incredibly strong, drawing on amounts and levels of Power Xian Mao had never even dreamed of touching
"Why are you hooking them up?"
Xian Mao started, looking to the voice behind him. It was Nabiki.
"Several reasons. Do you object?"
Nabiki shrugged, "No, but I stand to loose a lot of income if Ranma’s problems get resolved."
"There are other was to make money."
"True enough. So, why?"
"First and foremost, duty. I have a duty to help Ranma with the Cat Fist. Because the temple where I was raised and trained is the only place on the face of this earth where one can learn the Neko-ken, we hold ourselves responsible, directly or indirectly, for the actions of those who learn the technique. Indirectly, we are responsible for Ranma’s problem… Saotome Genma is directly responsible, but it is our shame that he was able to learn the little he did, and put Ranma through the hell of the Fourth Test. To do what I must, however, Ranma’s mind must be calm… which can only be achieved by helping him through his emotional turmoil.
"Also, I hope… I hope that by helping Ranma with -his- romance, I can have a better idea of how to manage my own love interests."
Nabiki quirked an eyebrow. "You’re a well spring of information this morning. Any chance you’ll tell me who that love interest is? None of my sources have reported any moves made on your part. Someone back in China?"
"None of the information I’ve given has been worth much. And, no, she’s not back in China. … Wanna know why your sources haven’t reported any moves made?" Xian Mao grinned a little.
"Sure."
"Because I haven’t really made that many."
"Oh? So who is this girl you’ve set your heart on?" Nabiki wasn’t sure why she was pestering Xian Mao for the information. It was of almost no importance whatsoever. Maybe it was because he didn’t seem to have fallen for Akane, as so many seemed to have.
"Really want to know?"
"Sure."
"You."
Stunned silence. A shove sent the Chinese boy into the pond, but if she had hoped Xian Mao was another victim of Jusenkyou, she was disappointed.
The Rising Sun of Japan breached the horizon to find Xian Mao still standing in front of the Dojo, hands clasped in the Tiger-Chases Dragon Salute. An wind unfelt by the rest of the world whipped at his hair and clothes, and spun black flames in a blazing circle around the building. A plethora of ancient symbols and glyphs—ranging from Sanskrit, to Ancient Chinese, to Nordic Runes, to strange arcane characters that no one had seen for millennia—danced through the flames, shimmering in and out of existence. For almost an hour he stood there, serene and unreadable, impossible to determine if he was alive or dead, moving again only once Ranma and Akane had dashed out the gates for school.
Pulling a fist-thick candle from his belt-sash, Xian Mao began to chant again and walked toward the Dojo, as oblivious to the Sun’s light as to the stares of the Tendou household. As he crossed the Circle, the wax of the candle began to shimmer in time with his chanting, as did the flames of the Circle. Slowly, Xian Mao made his way to the center of the Dojo—by no means a coincidence that it was also the exact center of the Circle—and with a final spoken Word, placed the candle on the floor. Outside, the flames roared up, swirling even faster ‘round the Dojo, then died down as RuneScript flowed up the candle from the base to the very top, evil-looking black against the virgin white of the candle’s wax.
"The nerve!" Nabiki fumed as she walked to school. "He deliberately led the conversation to that point!"
Of course, at a certain level, she had to admire the way he’d pushed and prodded her into asking the right questions. Everything snapped into place, every piece of dropped information, every odd phrase, suddenly made sense. Now, she couldn’t doubt his claim to have out-cheated an Imp… he had managed to trick her with goals she hadn’t thought of, working perfectly to achieve two or three separate goals, and sacrificing strategically useless information in exchange for what -he- felt to be important.
"Boss?" asked Natsuko {A.N.: I’ve never actually picked up the names of Nabiki’s two partners in crime; this was the first thing that came to mind. If you happen to know their names, e-mail me, I’m curious}. "What’s the matter? You seem out of sorts this morning…"
Nabiki told her two companions precisely what was the matter. At great lengths, and with no few explicitives.
"Personally, Boss, I think you should go for it."
"What?"
"Yeah, if nothing else, you could learn from him. Think about it: he hasn’t been around long enough to owe you anything, or to have any grudges against you. He’s only been to school one day, so he doesn’t even know what other people think of you…"
"A perfectly clean slate," agreed Mariko {A.N.: yup, that’s my name for the other one. Lame, ain’t it?}. "And he -is- pretty well built…"
"You two are crazy."
"C’mon, Boss, don’t tell me you never get lonely?"
Nabiki lashed out in an unprecedented and uncharacteristic display of emotion and violence, grabbing her two cohorts by the collars of their uniforms, and slamming them against the wall.
"You two -can’t- have any idea how lonely that madhouse I’m forced to call home is!" She snarled, shaking them slightly to emphasize her point, "My older sister has Dr. Tofu so madly in love with her that he literally can’t remember where he is when he sees her. My younger sister has every male in the school chasing after her. Ranma has -three- women, in addition to Akane, who want to fuck him blind.
"You cannot -possibly- know how lonely I get in the dark hours of the morning!"
"So, Boss," choked Natsuko, pressing the point for some reason that was beyond all logic save that it was the will of the Gods, "why are you throwing this opportunity away?"
Cologne looked up from her studies, preoccupied by ancient texts in the business-dead hours of the morning—a ramen shop having very little of a breakfast rush. She felt something… someone working magick; great magicks from the feel of it: a powerful roaring sensation in her skull, a tingling across her skin as the ambient power activated her Chakras. There was no one she knew of here who could work such spells—a would-be occultist at the high school, and Dr. Tofu were the only "Magi" she knew of in the Nerima district, unless one counted Happosai, but she would have recognized his "feel".
Strange, too, that it seemed to be coming from the direction of…
NO!
That couldn’t be it!
That would-be priest couldn’t be that powerful! She’d have sensed it in him! But…
Who else was there?
Bah.
It was probably just Happosai, masking himself somehow. Whatever it was, Son-in-Law could deal with it.
In the courtyard outside Furinken, "Voodoo Spike" Gosunkugi fell to his knees, grasping his stomach in agony as a wave of Power rippled across his inexpertly shielded body, mind, and soul.
What was going on?
Shampoo sat alone in her room, utterly insensitive to the powerful Workings that were disturbing every wizard, sorceress, and would-be mage in the region, wondering what she was going to do. She was honor bound to wed Ranma, but he did not want her. She had loved Ranma, and openly; now everyone assumed that she did… regardless of what she might protest, had she the courage. Now, another had worked his way into her heart. Enemy to her great-grandmother and her people, powerful in ways she could barely comprehend, but a martial artist of very, very earthly caliber. If Great-grandmother ever found out, it would most likely be the last day of her life.
The True Cat Fist
by Jeff Groves
Chapter Eight: Changes
Part Two: Paths Chosen
neko-sama@juno.com
With a snap of his fingers, an exhausted Xian Mao lit a candle for an astonished Ranma and Akane.
"Take this into the Dojo," he told them. "With it, light the candle in the middle of the floor. Whatever you do, don’t disturb that candle; blow it out gently when you’re ready to come out, or the Cirlce will collapse by itself at dawn."
Nodding unsurely, but without second thoughts, the reluctant couple walked across the charred patch and up the steps to the Dojo. Moments later, flames leapt up again, raging black and cold; burning higher and higher until the shadowy fires formed a dome over the Dojo. Completely drained, Xian Mao collapsed back against the Warding; tired, but satisfied with work done well.
"So, how’s it going?" Nabiki asked, looking at the shimmering black bubble surrounding the dojo building. Xian Mao, exhausted, sat with his back against said bubble, which had been the work of over twelve hours of intense ritual magick.
"They’re in there," he answered with a gusty, tired sigh. "and they will continue to be in there until they choose to come out… or dawn tomorrow, whichever comes first."
"Any idea what’s going on in there?"
"None."
"So… how’re you doing?"
"I’m exhausted, to be honest. I don’t think I could stand up if I wanted to."
Silence, for a while.
"I’m… sorry I pushed you into the pond."
Another sigh. "It’s okay. I propositioned you, you rejected me. End of story, right?"
"Well, actually…"
Xian Mao raised an eyebrow, wondering if for once he was going to get something without some sort of sacrifice… his pride had been traded for the spiritual training, his innocence for the Five Tests, his humanity for the Neko-ken. Perhaps, just once, he might get away intact…
"… I was wanting to reconsider…"
Xian Mao reached out his hand. "Can we be friends while you think about it?"
Nabiki smiled and took his hand in a firm grasp. "Yes."
An hour passed, and then another. Still, the bubble stood intact. The mercenary girl and the priestly boy sat together on it’s perimeter, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting.
They went in and ate when Kasumi called them to dinner, both wondering just what to do with themeselves… and each other.
"Where are Ranma and Akane?" asked Kasumi in her usual innocent way. "I haven’t seen them since right after school."
Xian Mao looked across the table to Nabiki. "Should I tell?"
She thought about it, then nodded. "Yeah, nothing anyone can do about them now."
"They’re in the dojo," the Chinese boy explained, "talking. Don’t bother trying to eavesdrop, I’ve got it spelled so tight you couldn’t hear an atomic blast go off in there."
Everyone just stared at him… save for Nabiki, who already understood the situation.
"They’ve both complained that they never have time alone without being interrupted. I’ve seen to it that only the Gods themselves can interrupt them. Don’t even bother trying.
"They’ll come out when the want to."
After dinner, Xian Mao and Nabiki returned to their vigilant watch of the dojo. They sat in companionable silence as the sun set.
"Xian Mao?" asked Nabiki after a while. "Do you have any nicknames? Something shorter, easier to say?"
"A couple. Some people just take my name apart, calling me Xian, or Mao. Some of the other acolytes at the temple called me ‘Baka’ until I learned Japanese… then they found somewhere else to be. When I first opened the Fourth Door, I was called "Claw" for a while, because for days after, my aura had claws. Other than that…" He shook his head. "None."
"Well, I can’t call you ‘baka’, that’s Ranma," they both chuckled, "and ‘claw’ is sort of odd… Mao is awkward, so I guess I’ll call you Xian… okay?"
"Fine by me…"
The wall behind them shimmered.
"They’re finally coming out," Xian Mao explained.
"Mmmm…" said Nabiki, getting up slowly, then turning to her first real friend in years. "You know, I really don’t have any experience in this… just a few manga and watching this chaos around me…"
"As incompetent as I am, hunh?" he asked, trying to find some way to speak his deepest heart—hard enough in Chinese, much less a language not native to him, "Care to try anyway?"
Nabiki smiled… the first genuine smile in some time, and kissed him on the forehead. "Yes."
The shell collapsed, and they could here what was obviously the tail end of the conversation.
"RANMA NO BAKA!!!"
"At least," he said with wry exasperation as the Dojo door opened, "we have a very excellent example of what NOT to do…"
"Yeah…"
The True Cat Fist
by Jeff Groves
Chapter Eight: Choices
Part Three: The Plot Thickens
neko-sama@juno.com
Mu Tsu sat alone in the darkened lobby of the Nekohanten. Despite what most of the people in Nerima believed, he was not stupid… except where it came to Xian Pu and any emotions she might or might not have for him, but that was beside the point. He could see that there was something wrong, both with Xian Pu and Khu Lon. Xian Pu was depressed by something, maybe even a little fearful… and Khu Lon was absolutely terrified by something, and enraged as well. And Mu Tsu had his suspicions… the trouble had began shortly after the young priest Xian Mao had arrived. Mu Tsu had no problems with the young man; he had his own disagreements with the Council of Elders, and Khu Lon especially. Something disturbed him, however, about the young man’s friendship with Xian Pu… they were too close for his comfort. There was nothing untoward that he could actually see, but that made little difference to Mu Tsu… there was very little that he could truly see, after all…
No. It couldn’t be that. Xian Pu was in love with Ranma; as much as he had denied it in the past, the time had come for him to admit it… even if only in the vaults of his own mind. Xian Mao was just a friend. That Mu Tsu could accept… almost.
Save for the fact that whenever Xian Mao was around, he had the odd feeling that the young man knew… knew what, he wasn’t sure, but something… something Mu Tsu did not want him knowing.
Alone in her room, Khu Lon did something she literally hadn’t done since Xian Pu’s mother’s mother had been a small child. In the center of a candle-lit circle, Khu Lon cast bones. It was a mark of her uncertainty that she did not simply look at the weavings of Fate with her own Sight, choosing instead to cast the rune-carved knuckle-bones of her own great-great grandmother and read their interpretation of things.
And as she finished the third casting, it was a mark of her anger that she couldn’t even focus strongly enough to extinguish the candles of the circle.
Her own interpretation of things was bad enough… the bones foretold things even worse. Both agreed, however, on a single point: this new boy, child of the Ancient Enemy (Khu Lon remembered what had happened… she’d been there; she remembered the fires, the death and the dying… she remembered it all very well) that was Wang Mao Yue, this unfathomable and unreadable Xian Mao… he would be her downfall… the beginning of the collapse of Amazon society.
Xian Pu, in turn, sat in her room crying.
She was dead, her body just didn’t know it yet.
She knew that Great-grandmother (Khu Lon wasn’t actually her mothers’ mother’s mother… it was far more complex than that) suspected. How could the Elder not?
She could no longer bring herself to pursue Ranma, and Xian Mao…
She was dead.
But she was an Amazon, and she would not die without taking her enemies to the Yama Kings with her.