[ranma][fanfic] Magic Part 1 of 8 : Giri

[Richard Lawson]

This is my sequel to "Thy Inward Love". It's an eight-part story called
"Magic".

TIL was written in a three-week frenzy. "Magic" is the work of several
months. That doesn't necessarily mean it's better; it just means that
I've been taking it very slowly. In between all of the other works I've
done - which include all of the Nuku Nuku stories, "Thy Outward Part"
and "The Nature of Love", and even "The Missing Ingredient", which
subsequently died a gruesome death - I would go back and add a paragraph
or two to "Magic". In fact, a lot of the stories I worked on would
contain elements of "Magic", as I tried to mature my writing style
before including certain passages in "Magic".

"Magic" is very different from TIL. It's one long story, unlike the
episodic nature of TIL. It involves lots of completely new characters,
rather than the extrapolations of existing characters I used in TIL. I'm
also trying to keep it told from one perspective, although I violate
that a couple of times.

"Magic" assumes that you've read "Thy Inward Love" and all of its
prequels, side stories, and aftermaths. These can all be found on my
home page (URL below), or on the raac archive at:
ftp://ftp.cs.ubc.ca/pub/archive/anime-fan-works/Ranma/Thy-Inward-Love/

Dang, I like to ramble. Let's just get down to it.

This takes place twenty-five years after "Thy Inward Love".

Let me know what you think.

-Richard
ste...@sprynet.com

--------------------------------------------------
All my fanfics can be found at:
http://home.sprynet.com/sprynet/sterman/fanfic.htm
--------------------------------------------------

--

Nate came to a halt in front of a tree. He leaned against it, trying to
recover his breath. His heart was still racing furiously. He'd been running
so long. Just a little further now.

He didn't like at all the way his legs were shaking. He wanted to say that
it was the exhaustion, but he knew that fear was contributing as well.
You're a cop, dammit, he thought to himself. You've faced down drug addicts
and other people too stupid or too strung out to know the value of human
life. You should be able to fight this.

The images of his friends dying, though, were burned too brightly into his
mind. He was alive only because he could run faster and farther than...
than whatever that thing was. And because he had left some of his friends
to die.

"Leave, Nate!" Karen was lying on the ground, gasping in huge breaths. She
had to yell to be heard over George's screams. "I'm done, I can't go any
farther. Get to the station, let them know what's happened!" She stared
into his eyes, her fear giving way to resignation. "Do it!"

Nate squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out the memory. Karen was a
good hiker, but she hadn't been a good runner. He *had* made better time
running through the woods without her and George holding him back. He had
to be close now, perhaps a mile or so away.

Something came crashing through the underbrush a hundred yards away. Nate
drew his gun in a flash, although it had already proven useless.

It was that thing. The funny thing was, the thing looked remarkably like a
young college student. She was dressed in normal outdoor gear, and he could
easily have imagined her with his hiking buddies. However, her eyes were
opened wide, the pupils huge. A pink froth dribbled down her chin. It
looked as if she had been pushing herself well beyond the limits of her
body to keep up with him. She ran stiffly towards him.

Panic rising in his throat, Nate squeezed the trigger. As before, nothing
happened. The gun was loaded and the safety was off; it simply refused to
function.

He turned and started running again. He should never have stopped. He
hadn't thought that thing was so close. He had to get away.

Something grabbed him. He didn't know what, or how, but he couldn't move.
He was turned around. The thing was still about twenty yards away, but she
had one of her hands raised at him. Somehow she was doing this to him. She
moved slowly forward, to stand three feet away.

"A most amusing chase." Her voice sounded raw, as if she had been
screaming. "I respect strength. I would use you, but really I am still too
weak. Your essence should be enough for now. Then I can bring in others who
will work for me. Already I can feel the lines of power, and where they
lead. I will pull at them and see what follows. It will all work because of
you, and I thank you for that."

Nate thought of one last act he could do, something that might put a dint
in this thing's plans. He dropped his gun and unhooked his hunting knife
from his belt. He brought the tip of the knife to rest underneath his chin
and braced himself.

Before he could finish the act, pain coursed through his body. His muscles
locked. His fist clenched, and he did cut himself, but not very deeply and
nowhere near an artery. His body spasmed and he dropped the knife.

He felt something draining from him. Something he didn't know he possessed.
Whatever it was, he needed it. He screamed as it was ripped from him. He
wanted to live, he wanted to die so that he'd stop feeling the pain. He was
useless and weak, and in the end, he'd been hunted down very much like the
scum he'd arrested over the years. He was no better than they. He was a
failure.

And then it became too hard to think, and he contented himself with
listening to the thing's laughter.

***

You have to believe we are magic;
Nothing can stand in our way.
You have to believe we are magic;
Don't let you aim ever stray.

And if all your hopes survive,
Your destiny will arrive
And bring all your dreams alive
For you.

I'll bring all your dreams alive
For you.

Magic

by Richard Lawson

Comments & Criticism Welcome!
ste...@sprynet.com

Part 1: Giri

Nouma frowned at the computer screen. The answer was so close, he could
feel it. He paged up and down between two sections of code before finally
opening a second window and displaying both sections at once. He picked up
a pencil from the desk and started tapping it on his lips, his mind
furiously at work trying to get the two parts of the program to work
together without flooding the CPU assigned to them.

It would be nice, he thought, if he could get time from another CPU.
Director Miyagi, however, had made it clear to each team that they would
only get one CPU to run their code, and they had damn well better make
their code work.

Miyagi-sama would be able to get this to work, Nouma thought to himself. I
should be able to as well. Suddenly an idea sparked the fires in his brain;
maybe there was a way to share the computations. If the CPU could process
two or more requests for computations simultaneously, perhaps with a multi-
variable equation, then each section of code could examine the output and
grab the bits relevant to their respective requests. If it worked, Nouma
could cut the CPU requests by 25%, maybe even 40%. An algorithm sprung to
mind. The details began falling into place; the code was practically
writing itself. If he could take the derivative....

The vid chose that particular moment to buzz at him. Nouma frowned at it in
irritation. Not now. He considered ignoring it, but the display indicated
it was from Assistant Director Nakimura. With a sigh, Nouma slapped the
receive key. Nakimura's image appeared on the screen.

"Tendo-san, the CEO is arriving in a few minutes to see you."

Nouma's eyebrows rose. What did the CEO want with him? Nouma grimaced; he
could guess.

His grimace wasn't lost on Nakimura. "Tendo! None of that. I want you at
the elevator in ten minutes to greet the CEO."

Nouma's irritation rose. "Nakimura-san, you know how the CEO feels about -"

"Ten minutes!" The vid screen blanked.

Nouma sighed. Nakimura was of the old school that was given to excessive
displays of respect. Miyagi-sama did not hold well with such displays, but
he was visiting another lab in Okinawa today. Nakimura was taking advantage
of his absence to give the CEO a "proper" greeting. Nakimura meant well.
Nouma knew, however, how the CEO was likely to react.

Nouma looked at his code displays with regret, then shut them down. His
mind still buzzing with the direction he wanted to go with the new code, he
made his way to the elevator.

The entire division was there, as Nouma knew they would be. They mulled
around uncertainly until Nakimura commanded them to be still and silent.
After an uncomfortable wait, the elevator doors slid open. Everyone except
Nouma bowed. Nakimura mumbled a very polite, loquacious greeting.

As Nouma had predicted, the CEO looked extremely irritated. "Enough,
Nakimura. Send everyone back to work; we don't have time for such
nonsense."

Nakimura flushed as he rose. "I only meant to offer the respect you
deserve."

The CEO glared at Nakimura. "I demand respect. I can't abide
obsequiousness." The CEO turned away from Nakimura and gestured at Nouma.
"Let's get out of here."

"Yes, Aunt Nabiki." Nouma made his way past the stricken Nakimura and into
the elevator.

The doors slid shut as Nabiki continued to fume. "I can't see how such a
sycophant can exist in our organization."

Nouma spoke without thinking. "He's a good man. He's just a little too
caught up in the old forms."

Nabiki gave him a thoughtful look. Nouma rolled his eyes ever so slightly.
He had a reputation within the Tendo family for being an excellent judge of
character. He wasn't sure how much of that was true and how much of that
was his father's inflated opinion repeated as fact. It had the effect of
having everyone react to Nouma's opinions as if they were judgments set in
stone.

He thought Aunt Nabiki above such nonsense. Her ability to uncover a
person's true nature was legendary. She should certainly be able to see
through the hyperbole. "Don't just take my word for it, Aunt Nabiki. Ask
Director Miyagi. He'll tell you."

Nabiki smiled. "I have long ago learned not to interfere with Miyagi's
operations. He does just fine, and he reacts poorly to what he terms
'bureaucratic nonsense'."

That brought up another question he had always wanted to ask Nabiki. It
came to his lips, but went no further as he considered whether it was a
polite thing to ask. Nabiki saw his dilemma, and smiled. "You're going to
ask me how I got him to accept you as a programmer, aren't you?"

Nouma blinked, then chuckled. "I should know better than to hide things
from you, Aunt Nabiki."

Nabiki's eyes gleamed. "Yes, you should." The elevator doors slid open and
they made their way through the lobby. "It was the biggest fight Miyagi and
I have ever had - and we've had some classics. He adamantly refused to take
part in nepotism. It was only after I showed him your college records and
some examples of your programming that he agreed to try you out. I think
it's worked out well."

Nouma nodded. It had worked out. Nouma had very quickly come to respect
Director Miyagi for his exceptional intelligence - and Nouma accorded few
people such respect. Miyagi, for his part, had been very hard on Nouma, but
no more so than he was on any of his employees. After Nouma's first few
projects had been completed, Miyagi had given him a sentence of praise.
That sentence had meant more to Nouma than any accolade he had received in
college.

Nouma and Nabiki left the building, but Nouma balked when he saw the
limousine. "I'm supposed to meet Ranko for lunch, Aunt Nabiki."

Nabiki grimaced. Nouma allowed a touch of amusement to color his features.
Nabiki saw, and managed a wry smile. "All right, let's go. I suppose you're
going to meet at that awful hamburger place?"

Nouma smiled. "She likes their milkshakes." He turned down the street, and
heard Nabiki order the driver to wait before she followed him.

They entered the restaurant. Ranko was already seated at a booth, and she
waved enthusiastically at them. Nouma always had the same reaction to
Ranko. She reminded him so much of his father's female half, except Ranko
had black hair. She was twenty-three, the same age as Nouma, and they'd
spent a lot of time together growing up. "Nouma! Nabiki! Over here!"

Nouma looked over at Nabiki and saw her eyes wince slightly. To have
someone nearly twenty years her junior address her with such familiarity
still irked her. Technically, Ranko had the right to do so. She didn't have
to, but did it mainly to tease Nabiki. Nouma kept strictly out of it, but
secretly found the entire situation very amusing.

They made their way to the booth. Ranko had already placed Nouma's lunch in
front of him; she knew what he liked. Nouma looked over at Nabiki. "Auntie,
can I get you something?"

Nabiki looked at the hamburgers with disdain. "No thank you."

Nouma bit into his hamburger while studying Nabiki. She still wore the same
haircut he had seen in her high school pictures. She was almost as slim,
and her features looked almost the same, if a little worn. Her hair had no
gray in it, but Nouma was almost certain she dyed it. He didn't begrudge
her the vanity; she did have an image to maintain as the Chief Executive
Officer of Tendo Investment Enterprises.

Ranko finished her lunch quickly, and slurped her milkshake while she, too,
studied Nabiki. "It's been a while, Nabiki. You should come over for dinner
sometime. Mom misses you."

Nabiki snorted softly. "I don't see why. Your mother always got along much
better with Akane and Kasumi. She and I hardly ever spoke."

Ranko frowned, and Nouma could sense her attitude change from amused
teasing to an earnest desire to make Nabiki understand. "Don't be like
that. Mom likes you, too. You helped out my brother as much as anyone else
did. Mom knows that, and appreciates it. She sees how much you watch out
for the family." Her emotions shifted once again, back to teasing. "Who
else would give my worthless nephew a job?"

Nouma, in the middle of drinking his soft drink, almost gagged. He quickly
swallowed and started laughing, throwing a french fry at Ranko.

They laughed together a minute, and even Nabiki smiled. Finally, though, a
serious look crossed her face. "Nouma, we need to talk."

Nouma sobered, and looked at her with something approaching trepidation.
"Yes, Aunt Nabiki?"

She leaned forward to look Nouma in the eye. "Will you be coming to the
dojo tonight?"

Nouma kept himself from grimacing; how had Nabiki known that he was
considering not attending? A satisfied look came into Nabiki's eyes; he
knew that she had seen in his eyes that she had guessed correctly about his
reservations. He allowed admiration for her abilities to read his thoughts
to show. She smiled ever so slightly, amused but also letting him know that
she was serious about making him attend. Nouma quirked a corner of his
mouth; he didn't want to go, but he couldn't refuse both his father and
Aunt Nabiki when they both applied pressure to him. Nabiki's smiled
widened, relieved and gratified that he understood.

This ability to converse without words was something he could only do with
Nabiki. It went right over Ranko's head. "Of course he's coming. The entire
family's coming, haven't you heard, Nabiki?"

Nouma shared an amused glance with Nabiki before turning to Ranko. "I
wasn't so sure about coming."

Ranko looked at him in surprise. "What? No one can refuse Ranma's summons."

Nouma frowned. "Dad chose to lead a certain kind of life before I was born.
I didn't chose it. I've gone on a couple of his adventures. I found that
they weren't to my taste. I've got my own life now; programming is ever so
much more satisfying than martial arts. I don't see why I should allow
myself to be dragged into that lifestyle again."

Ranko's eyes were very wide. "But... you can't! I mean, my brother is
depending on you so much...." She trailed off, unsure how to convince him
that he needed to be there.

Nouma sighed. "Don't worry, Aunt Ranko. Aunt Nabiki has already convinced
me. I'll be there."

Ranko looked at Nabiki in surprise. "Oh?" She frowned, then smiled. "That's
good."

Nabiki raised an eyebrow at Ranko before smiling back. "Now that that's
settled, I'll be going back to the office. I'll see you both this evening."

Nabiki indicated that they should stay in their seats as she got up and
left. Ranko watched her go, then turned to Nouma. "I don't understand her
at all. She scares me sometimes."

Nouma smiled. "She scares everyone sometimes. That's what makes her great."

Ranko shook her head. "You like everyone, Nouma. I don't see how you can do
it."

Nouma laughed. "I don't like everyone. I just understand them. As it
happens, Aunt Nabiki is my second-favorite aunt."

Ranko smiled at him coyly. "And who's your favorite aunt?"

Nouma blinked at her in mock surprise. "You mean you don't know?" He smiled
innocently at her. "Aunt Kodachi, of course."

Ranko growled and threw a packet of salt at him. Nouma laughed. Ranko was
so light and playful; he couldn't spend any time in her presence without
cheering up. She reminded Nouma of Aunt Kasumi and Grandmother in that
respect, except that Ranko had a lot more energy and wasn't above being
malicious in her play.

Nouma let himself get caught up in Ranko's high spirits. It allowed him to
not think about the feeling he was getting that after tonight, he'd be
sucked right back into Father's curse.

***

Nouma stared thoughtfully at the front gate, and considered the problem of
getting from it to the front door.

He decided to scout around first. He jumped to the top of the wall
surrounding the Tendo home and examined the front yard carefully. Nothing
out of the ordinary could be seen, but that didn't mean anything.

He dropped to the ground inside the yard, bracing for an attack. It didn't
come, so he slowly and carefully began stepping towards the front door, not
getting out of his ready position. After two steps he changed direction,
took two steps and changed direction again, moving in a slightly random
pattern but making his way inexorably to the front door.

To his surprise, he was able to walk to the front door unchallenged. He
sighed in relief; maybe the days of those challenges were past. He opened
the front door.

Something shot out of it. It hit him squarely in the chest, and he flew
backwards. He landed in the yard, with a teenage girl astride his chest,
her hands pressing his shoulders to the ground.

She smiled wickedly at him. "You've gone soft, Brother."

Nouma tried to catch his breath while studying Mikanma. Everyone said that
her face looked remarkably like their mother's at the same age, except for
the piercing blue eyes. Her build was much like their father's: slim and
athletic. She wore her black hair in the same pigtail Father had worn at
her age, and had even taken to wearing the same Chinese silk shirts he had
favored, orange instead of red.

Nouma grabbed her wrists and lifted her hands away from his shoulders. She
spun her hands out of his grasp, grabbed his shirt, stood up and flipped
backwards at the same time, heaving him into the air. Nouma flew through
the front door to land in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Nouma slowly stood, trying to recover. He was widely considered to be one
of the best martial artists in the world - his father had seen to that -
but what no one outside of the Tendo clan yet knew was that Mikanma had
more skill by far. Her speed and strength were almost frightening, and she
was wonderfully creative in her technique, discovering moves that even
Father hadn't considered. She hadn't yet beaten Father in the dojo - Father
quite simply *was* the best martial artist in the world - but the day was
not far off when she would be able to claim the title for herself. And she
was only seventeen.

Mikanma was leaning against the door, smiling at him. "Pop is going to eat
you alive. I told you that computers don't make good sparring partners."

"Yeah, so you did." Nouma rotated his wrist, and decided that it wasn't
hurt too badly. "You're just lucky that Mom didn't see you do that."

"Didn't see you do what?" Nouma and Mikanma both flinched at Mother's
voice. She stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them with an
annoyed look on her face. "Did it have something to do with that crash I
heard a moment ago?"

Nouma kept silent, not wanting to lie to Mother and not wanting to get
Mikanma in trouble. Unfortunately, Mikanma was quite adept at getting
herself into trouble without any outside help. "Nouma and I were just
practicing, Mom. He let himself be thrown through the front door."

"I see." Mother's voice sounded skeptical, and no less annoyed. "And was
your brother asked before he participated in this 'practice'?"

Mikanma scowled. "Pop is always saying you have to ready for anything
during a fight. I'm just keeping Nouma on his toes."

"Don't refer to your father in such a disrespectful way." Mother was
getting angry. "I want you to go and clean the dishes, and think about
whether or not your brother and your father deserve a little more of your
respect."

Mikanma swallowed her retort and slumped her shoulders. "Yes, Mother." She
stalked down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Honestly, that child inherited all of your father's worst traits." Mother
sounded quite exasperated, as she often did when dealing with Mikanma.

Nouma looked up at her. "She inherited all of the best as well, Mother."

Mother looked at Nouma from the top of the stairs. Nouma was strongly
reminded of a time when he was seven, when Mother had glared at him from
the top of these very same steps after he'd managed to break the front door
in an overly-enthusiastic attempt to open it with his feet. She was a
little heavier than she had been then, and her face was a little softer.
Her hair was sprinkled lightly with gray, and she looked every bit the
forty-two year old woman she was. It didn't stop her from springing down
the stairs and grabbing Nouma in a bear hug. "It's good to see you, Son. I
was a little worried that you wouldn't come."

Nouma struggled out of her grasp; she still had remarkable strength when
she chose to apply it. "Aunt Nabiki made sure I'd be here."

Mother smiled. "Good for her. I'm glad she keeps her eye on you as well as
her own children." Her smile faded, and she looked at Nouma seriously.
"Everyone else will be here in another hour. Your father wants to see you
in the dojo right away."

Nouma closed his eyes and wondered when the family gauntlet would end. He
drew a breath and opened them again. "Yes, Mother."

She seemed to understand and smiled. "Sometimes I get fed up with it as
well, Nouma. I'm glad you chose not to let it dominate your life like your
father and your sister have." Once more, she lost her smile, and this time
a worried expression crossed her face. "It's different with your father
this time. Something has him extremely worried, and it's making everyone
tense. Go to him. I think he needs your help now more than ever."

Nouma studied Mother closely, aware for the first time that she was very
frightened. Mother had gone through some harrowing experiences over the
years; whatever had her *this* scared must be remarkable, indeed. He leaned
forward and gave her a gentle hug. She clutched at him, not as strongly as
before but still fiercely enough for Nouma to know that she needed this
reassurance from him.

They separated. Mother smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek before
going towards the kitchen. Nouma imagined that Mikanma was in for a bit of
a lecture right now.

Nouma shook his head to clear it, then made his way to the back yard and
into the dojo.

Father was in the center of the dojo, sitting cross-legged and meditating.
Nouma watched him from the edge of the dojo. The remarkable thing about
Father was that he seemed to have stepped out of time. He looked to be in
his early twenties. Nouma often had trouble convincing people that Father
*was* his father; most took him to be his brother. Father's agelessness
didn't bother Nouma that much - he'd grown up with it, and it seemed to be
as normal to him as did the fact that his father changed gender frequently.
It frightened some people, to the point that Father seldom left the dojo
these days unless he was going out on one of his quests.

People had been striving for explanations for years. The fact that he was a
martial artist who kept in top physical form seemed to be an obvious
answer. However, there were several people his age who also kept in top
form - Ryoga, Tatewaki, Kodachi, and even Mother - and they showed every
indication that they were aging at the same rate as the rest of the world.

Another theory was genetics. Although Grandfather Saotome looked every bit
as old as he was, Grandmother had aged remarkably well. Nouma had seen
pictures of her taken when she was pregnant with Ranko, and she had looked
to be ten years younger than she was.

Most people accepted a combination of the two theories - physical
conditioning and good genes - to account for Father's young features. Nouma
had trouble accepting any of the theories. No matter how good the genes and
the conditioning were, forty years of sun, wind, and gravity did things to
a human body. Father didn't have creases around his eyes, and his skin,
while not smooth, was still tight and completely without wrinkles. This
just wasn't the body of a forty-two year old man.

It was while he had been sharing these observations with Aunt Kodachi that
she had provided an alternative explanation. "If I recall the story your
father told me, the Guide told Ranma that whoever fell into that pool took
the body of a young girl. Right?"

Nouma had nodded.

She had continued in that lecturing tone she used when leading Nouma in a
logic exercise. "Notice that he said 'young girl'. Not 'girl' or simply
'woman'. He implied that there was an age factor. It would be logical to
assume that being young is as important to the curse as being female."

Nouma had thought about that. "So, okay, why isn't he young only when he's
female? Shouldn't his male side be aging normally?"

Kodachi had pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Hmm. Perhaps it has something to
do with how your father has internalized and accepted his curse. It's so
much a part of him that it affects his male side as well. Then again, maybe
the curse is making a certain concession to reality; it's easier for Ranma
to do what he does if both sides of him can be seen as mature, but still
young."

Nouma had frowned. "You make the curse sound almost sentient."

Kodachi had laughed. "We're trying to apply logic to magic, and it doesn't
always work. We don't know enough about the underlying assumptions to make
a truly coherent picture, so we have to postulate things that sound
somewhat ridiculous. If you go back to early theories about atoms and
molecules, you'll see some very intelligent people make guesses that,
today, seem ludicrous. They were only doing the best they could with the
limited amount of information available to them. We're doing the same
here."

Nouma was forced to agree with her analysis. What she said about the curse
made sense. It just felt right to him, and he couldn't exactly say why. He
still wanted to know more information about it. One day, he planned to go
to China and interrogate the Guide about how the magic of Jusenkyo worked.

Father opened his eyes and smiled at Nouma. Nouma smiled back; it was
always good to know that both of his parents were always happy to see him.
Nouma wasn't so good at returning the favor. He made a mental note to try
and be happier when he saw his parents. He knew they missed him, and he
shouldn't feel embarrassed by their displays of affection whenever he came
to visit.

Father stood and took a couple of steps back away from the center of the
dojo, still facing Nouma. Nouma stifled a sigh and took a position opposite
Father. They bowed to each other, then assumed the ready position.

Fights with his father never went the same way twice. Father had so many
moves and tactics in his repertoire that he was utterly unpredictable. This
time, he leapt straight at Nouma, his fist pointed directly at Nouma's
head.

Nouma dropped to his back and attempted to propel his father towards the
wall with his feet. Father grabbed Nouma's ankles and more or less fell on
top of Nouma, as Nouma was able to brace himself enough to prevent Father
from doing anything useful with his hold.

Nouma used his legs to put a scissors hold on Father's stomach, at the same
time trying to give him an uppercut to the jaw. Father pulled his head
back, grabbed Nouma's shirt, and quickly rolled, slamming Nouma to the mat.
The jarring blow caused Nouma to loosen his scissors hold ever so slightly,
but enough so that Father broke free of it and sprang to his feet.

Despite the fact that his head was still ringing a little bit, Nouma rolled
away from Father several times before turning the roll into a cartwheel and
landing on his feet. Nouma and his father began dancing their way closer to
each other, circling each other warily around the dojo.

Father spoke as they spiraled in to each other. "You're doing pretty good
for someone who gave up the Art."

Nouma grimaced, keeping his eyes on Father, still awaiting an attack.
Father was holding back a little, he knew. If this had been a real fight,
Father would have been able to knock him senseless in less than thirty
seconds. He was just trying to test Nouma, seeing what his form was like.
"I never said I was giving up the Art, Father. I'm just not devoting my
entire life to it, is all."

"Yes, so I've heard." Father feinted an attack, but Nouma didn't allow
himself to be baited. "Nabiki says you're doing quite well in your new job.
She likes to tease your mother, asking her who your real father is."

Nouma couldn't help laughing; that did sound like Aunt Nabiki. She had a
high opinion of her own intelligence - an opinion that was justified, in
Nouma's estimate - and had little tolerance for people who didn't measure
up to her standards. Nouma met those standards, just as Father didn't.
Nouma thought that was a little unfair of Nabiki. Father's intelligence was
obvious in the way he reacted to the world around him, responding to it
quickly and creatively. He wasn't so good at strategy - the rational,
analytical planning that happened before a battle. However, he had no equal
in tactics - responding to changing conditions in battle.

Like, for instance, now. As soon as Nouma began laughing, Father attacked.
Nouma was slow to defend, and found himself flying across the room, his
father's foot the last clear image he had before he crashed into the wall
twenty feet away.

Father wasn't through with him yet; as Nouma pushed himself back to his
feet, Father was directly in front of him. His fists began to fly, and
Nouma had no choice but to block them. Father was still holding back, Nouma
knew. Father began slowly increasing the speed of his punches, and Nouma
strained to keep up.

"Your sister was able to surprise you, Nouma. You were sloppy."

Nouma grimaced again; nothing got by Father when it came to martial arts.
"I suppose I was. I let my guard down before I was actually inside the
house."

Father looked at him curiously. "I never asked why she decided that you
would not be allowed into the house without first getting by her."

Nouma smiled, trying not to show how hard he was trying to keep from
Father's punches from getting through. "I think it's because she still
can't believe that I beat you in the dojo. She can't beat you, and she
doesn't understand why. She keeps trying to find some secret technique in
me that she hasn't yet seen."

Father winced at the mention of Nouma's victory. "She didn't have Kodachi
helping her plan the attack."

"Aunt Kodachi's offered to teach her the same things she's taught me."

"Maybe it's just as well Mikanma refused. That wasn't a very nice strategy
that you and Kodachi came up with."

Nouma chuckled, and regretted it instantly at one of Father's punches
nearly connected. "You yourself have taught me to discover your enemy's
weakness and use it against them."

Father's attack slowed for a second as he shuddered. "You might have
carried it too far. You know what can happen to me in those circumstances."

"Well, that's tactics. The strategy was to expose you to your weakness. The
tactic was to make sure you didn't get so exposed that you needed Mother to
bring you out of it." Nouma smiled. "You've got to admit, it worked pretty
well."

"Yeah." Father grinned at him evilly. "You beat me once. Just once."

Nouma shot him back the same kind of grin. "You've told me before, once is
all it takes."

Father laughed, then increased the speed of his punches. Nouma stopped
talking and used all of his concentration to try and keep up. In the end,
it was futile. The only who could keep up with Father's speed was Mikanma,
and although Nouma would pit his hand speed against anyone else in the
world, he was only third-best in his family. One of Father's punches got
through, then another, and then Nouma's defense collapsed as a hundred
punches connected to his midsection. His breath left him, and he fell to
his knees as his father stepped back.

Nouma had almost forgotten how painful training sessions in the Tendo Dojo
could be. They never went easy on each other during training. None of his
father's punches had been pulled, and Father was as strong as he was fast.
If Nouma hadn't kept himself in top physical condition, he'd need a
stretcher right now if he'd wanted to leave the dojo. This was, he
realized, his father's way of ascertaining the state of his martial arts.
In a way, despite the fact the he felt like someone had used a jackhammer
on his ribcage, Nouma had won. He'd passed Father's scrutiny.

Father stood over him and applied a couple of pressure points, something
he'd learned from Tofu. Nouma's breathing eased, and he allowed his father
to pull him to his feet.

"You're not as bad as I thought you'd be, Son."

Nouma leaned against the wall. "High praise from you, Father." He looked
over to the clock on the wall. "We still have some time before everyone
arrives. Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

Father sighed and leaned against the wall next to Nouma, facing him. "We'll
get to that when everyone arrives. I have other matters to discuss with
you."

Nouma raised his eyebrows. His father's tone was extremely serious. There
was none of his usual banter in it, and Nouma felt his stomach tighten in
anticipation of whatever was to follow.

"Son." Father seemed to be struggling for the correct phrasing. "You know
how much I wanted you to further your martial arts training."

"Yes." That was an understatement. Father had been very upset when Nouma
had moved away from home to go to college. Father had always felt that
Nouma had so much more to learn - he'd barely scratched the surface of the
chi-attacks that were available to him. Nouma had flatly refused to learn
anything new, concentrating on his studies. "I felt - and still feel - that
there's stuff outside the field of martial arts that is as satisfying, if
not more satisfying, then learning more and better ways to defeat a
hypothetical enemy."

Father's eyes narrowed a bit. "The enemies are not so hypothetical to me."

Nouma nodded. "I know that, Father. I'm not trying to invalidate your
experiences. I just want to partake of a different lifestyle."

Father rubbed his forehead and smiled wryly. "Sometimes talking to you
reminds me of your Uncle Tatewaki. I get the same headache trying to follow
you."

Nouma smiled himself. Growing up, he'd always had fun listening to the way
Uncle Tatewaki talked. He'd begun to imitate it as he got older. He
eventually grew out of the phase and spoke more or less normally. He'd have
relapses occasionally, especially when he was involved in serious
discussions. "Sorry, Father."

"No, don't be sorry. I'd sure hate it if you talked like me." Father
smiled; he had a particular gift for mangling the language. He'd gotten
marginally better at using and pronouncing words correctly over the years,
but not before Mikanma had picked up the habit, much to Mother's dismay.

Father drew a breath, then looked at Nouma with a completely serious look
on his face. "OK, here it is. I want you to follow in my footsteps."

Nouma's jaw dropped open. He stared at Father for a few seconds before
answering. "You can't be serious, Father. Mikanma's twice the martial
artist I am, and she's still getting better. She wants to inherit the dojo.
I certainly don't feel like teaching the art to anyone."

Father shook his head. "No, listen to me." He sighed and gazed off into
space, evidently trying to work something out.

He nodded and focused once more on Nouma. "You're right, Mikanma is a
better martial artist than you are. You and I both know that you'll never
match her skills, or mine. You're still one of the best martial artists in
the world. That's why I sent you to all those tournaments before you went
to college; not just to prove it to the world, but to have you prove it to
yourself.

"You're also very smart. Smarter than me or your mother. Smarter than your
sister. You've got just about everyone I know beat. I'll bet if you were
somehow able to corner Nabiki into a comparison, she'd admit you're smarter
than she is. So okay, you're not Einstein. You've still got the rest of us
idiots beat handily. Kodachi's trained you well; you can apply your
intelligence very effectively. That's how you beat me. Again, you and I
both know that, with a little time to prepare, you could defeat your sister
in combat.

"Everyone I talk to tells me how nice you are. I've had people compare you
to Kasumi and your grandmother, and that's saying something. You're
compassionate, helpful, friendly, and slow to anger. I still don't know how
you could've learned those things in this household." Father quirked a
smile before sobering again. "I'm glad you did, though. It makes you much
more likable than I ever was.

"Your best asset, though, is your judge of character. Even when you were
little, you could tell good people from bad people in an instant. We used
you to hire our baby-sitters; if you smiled at them, they were okay. You
can see into people's souls, find out things about them just by the way
they talk. I don't see how you do it. Nabiki and Kasumi are the only other
ones I've seen who can do something like that, and they are just amazed by
how deeply you can look into a person's heart.

"If you add this all up, Nouma, it makes you out to be one of the most
truly remarkable people in the world." Father leaned forward a little bit,
driving his point home. "I've been asking about you, if you haven't figured
it out already. I wanted to know everyone's opinion of you, to see if it
matched my own. Everyone says the same thing: you are the finest human
being they know."

Nouma absorbed all of this numbly. He didn't exactly have a low self-image;
he knew he was a good person. He never thought of himself as being truly
exceptional, however. Mother had always told him that, but he had always
judged her opinion to be highly biased. He'd do the same with Father's
opinion, except that Father's serious tone told Nouma that this was not
just idle praise. Father was building up to something.

Father examined his face carefully. He spoke one more sentence, slowly. "It
was always my intention that your sister inherit the dojo."

Nouma blinked; if that was the case, where was all of this leading to?

It came to him in a flash. Something akin to horror washed over him. "No."

Father raised his hands. "Think about it for a few days."

Nouma's voice got just a little louder. "No."

Father shook his head. "Don't get mad, please. We'll talk some more about
it after the meeting."

"No!" Nouma was trembling in anger and shock. "What're you gonna do, take
me to China and dump me into a pool at random?"

Father winced. "No, nothing like that. I said we'll talk about it later."

Father had been right; Nouma was slow to anger. Once he got going, however,
he was hard to stop. "You chose to lead that kind of life, Pop! You coulda
ended the curse, you coulda led a normal life. Instead, you decided you
wanted to spend your life fighting all sorts of strange stuff all over the
world. You may call that satisfying, Pop, but I don't! I call it a screwed-
up way to live, and you ain't gonna drag me into it!"

Anger crossed Father's face. He cupped his hands. A ball of chi-energy
three inches in diameter appeared. It flew from Father's hands and struck
Nouma in the chest, staggering him. Nouma winced, closed his eyes and bit
his tongue. Father's control over chi forces was truly remarkable. Nouma
was capable of many chi-attacks, but he didn't have nearly the fine control
his father had.

Father, meanwhile, was talking angrily. "I want you to know, Son, that if
it wasn't for the curse, I might not have married your mother. Think about
that before you start mouthing off to me on how terrible the curse is."

Nouma drew a couple of deep breaths, then opened his eyes. He looked over
at Father, his anger gone. "I'm sorry, Father. You're right. The curse
itself isn't a bad or evil thing. It's just... I don't want to be a part of
it."

Father studied him closely. Something drained out of him, and he couldn't
keep a look of disappointment off his face. "All right, I understand, Son.
You're right as well; it isn't all fun and games to be cursed like this."

Voices could be heard from the house, talking excitedly and loudly. Father
looked at the dojo door. "They'll be coming in here soon. Please greet them
for me; I want to go get ready for my presentation."

Nouma looked after his father as he made his way to a screened-off area
towards the back of the dojo. Before he could stop himself, he blurted,
"Why?"

Father stopped, facing away from Nouma. "It's beginning to frighten me. Not
for how dangerous the quests are, but for what it's doing to me and your
mother. She deserves better than this." With that, he disappeared behind
the screen.

Nouma stared after him, shocked comprehension flooding him. Father was
worried that the curse would keep him looking like he was twenty-five
forever. Mother was getting older, and Nouma had noticed the strange looks
his parents had received when they'd held hands together in public, or
exchanged a quick kiss. Mother, being human, couldn't help being jealous of
Father's resistance to aging. If this kept up, the curse would end up
poisoning Mother's and Father's relationship. Father recognized this, and
wanted to be done with it before it went too far.

Nouma paled. Could he let his selfish desires to lead whatever life he
wanted to come in the way of his parent's happiness? He had an obligation
to his family. Then again, did that obligation extend to becoming cursed?
Nouma had idly wondered, in the past, what it would be like to become a
woman like his father always did. Somehow, the fact that it might actually
happen made Nouma shudder. Surely Father could just end the curse without
passing it along to someone else, couldn't he?

Nouma knew the answer to that. Father took his duty as protector of the
world and savior of lost causes very seriously. He would consider it a
tremendous stain on his honor to forsake that duty without appointing a
successor.

The weight of this knowledge nearly crushed Nouma. Duty to your parents.
Duty to the world. Duty to one's self. How to balance these things? Nouma
had no idea.

Nouma closed his eyes. He strongly suspected that whatever was about to
happen, the quiet, peaceful, happy life he had known recently was going
to vanish forever. He silently watched it begin to slip away, and mourned
its passing.

END PART 1