[GRIT][GRITfic] Answers that Aren't (Post 1 of 2)

[bo...@logicworld.com.au]

I did try posting this before but it doesn't look like it worked. So I'm
trying again, this time with DejaNews.

This story is essentially a replacement of "Steve's Story". It cuts out
and/or summarises relatively unimportant stuff and adds new bits, and
then is told from a 1st person IC perspective.

And because it's too damn big, I have to cut this into two posts. Very
annoying.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So many weird things have happened to me, I don't really know where to
start.

Life was normal at first. Well, as normal as you can be when your
father's job takes you and the rest of your family around the world,
changing countries every three years on average, and passing through lots
more when we were on vacation. People say that this is a good thing, and
broadens an individual's mind. I agree. But for a young child it can
also lead to introversion, which happened to me, I guess.

Though a definite plus is an ability for languages.

Needless to say, Japan was one of those countries we lived in. In fact,
we were in Japan twice, for a total of seven years overall. Japan was...
good, I suppose. I just wish I'd appreciated it more - when I was young
it didn't really register that I was in another country with different
customs and traditions. It seemed like just a different city, really.

And so life went. Every few years there would be a move to another
country, and then eventually we came back to Australia. And though it
was supposed to be my home country, I barely knew it. And, most
aggravating of all, thanks to my foreign experiences I had an accent.
Not just any accent, an Accent. The kind that's called 'International'
by charitable people trying to be nice. Me, I just curse it. It makes
me sound foreign anywhere I go. In fact, I probably speak Japanese with
less of an accent than I speak English. One of life's funny little
ironies. But I'm wandering off the point now.

Anyway.

So I was back in Australia, having been around the world. I'd even found
some old friends, who were just as surprised as I was to see each other -
we'd all thought we'd never see each other again.

This was when things started to become weird. The first notable thing
was when I met Master Ryuu-ou.

* * * *

Now I'd been to the 'main' Asian countries - Japan and Korea, and some
time in China, too. Something I did to pass the time when we there was
to join a martial arts club of some sort - Tae Kwon Do, Judo, Karate, Wu
Shu, Tai Ch'i, Kendo - you name it, I've probably done some of it. In a
couple of them I was very good - probably black belt material but because
a child wasn't allowed to hold a black belt I never actually got that
far.

When I got back to Australia I canvassed around somewhat, trying to find a
martial arts club that would hold my interest and would recognize the
achievements I'd made overseas. This should have been easy, right?

Wrong.

I heard lots of weird excuses. Some instructors said I was too advanced
for them. Others complained about me having done other martial arts and
said this would stain my style. Some didn't want to recognize what I'd
done overseas and wanted me to start from the bottom. And so it went.
It seemed there was a curse on me.

One evening I'd just been checking out a Wado-Ryu Karate club, and the
instructor had, as usual, turned me politely but firmly away. If I
remember right it had been the "oh no, you've done other martial arts,
this may be a problem" excuse again.

"Shucks," I said, or words to that effect, and started the walk home,
kicking despondently at the ground.

"Greetings."

"Huh?" I spun around to look behind me. Standing just a couple of
meters away was an indistinct figure, swaddled in a large tenchcoat and a
fedora. It looked like the man wanted to be indistinct and he was doing
a very good job. Which made him all the more suspicious. "Who are you?"
I asked.

"You can call me Ryuu-ou, boy."

Ryuu-ou sounded like a very Japanese word to me, and so did his accent.
At the time I thought to meet him on his own terms, but looking back on
it I realise I was just trying to show off. "So what do you want, Master
Ryuu-ou?" I asked him in Japanese.

He sighed. "First," he started in Japanese, "don't try to impress me.
It takes a lot more than speaking to me in Japanese to impress me." He
paused. "I'd like to make you an offer."

"Huh?"

"You've been looking around, haven't you? You've been trying to find a
martial arts club that'll take you, haven't you, only none has offered to
take you on."

"What? How did you -"

"Don't interrupt, boy, I was on a roll there." He sighed. "I myself am a
martial artist, and I might take you on. If you're good enough."

This last comment got my interest. Most of the excuses I'd heard so far
had been because I was too good for them. But I was also suspicious, as
you would be.

"Alright, Master Ryuu-ou. I'm interested. But I know nothing about you.
I don't know about the style you teach, I don't know where you teach,
who your students have been, or anything."

He grinned. Well, I couldn't tell because he was so indistinct, but I
got the definite impression from his tone that he was grinning. With
what I now know about him, it was probably a somewhat predatory grin too,
but there's no way to be sure.

"I teach a virtually unknown style called 'Ryuuenkioujutsu', boy."

I lapsed into English as I tried to figure out what this meant. "Art of
dragon... um... fire ki... er, king?" That couldn't possibly be right.
It wasn't.

"Close, boy," he said, chuckling. "But no cigar. 'Art of Dragonflame ki
control'," he finished in English.

"Oh," I said, feeling very foolish.

"Want an example?" he asked. Without really waiting for an answer, he
looked around to see if anyone was watching, lifted up his right hand,
palm-up, and a softly glowing sphere of yellow light appeared above it.

"Oh.. my..." was about all I could manage. "Just like in DBZ..." I
breathed.

"Well, not quite that flashy and ridiculous, but close enough. You
interested?"

Needless to say, I was.

But I've never known just why he asked me to be his student. I asked him
back then. His answer was that he wanted someone worthy enough of being
his student, not just anyone. It didn't sound like a very good answer
but I never pressed him about it again.

Thus my training under Master Ryuu-ou began.

Ryuu-ou was a hard master. He drove me hard and long and asked me to
devote my entire life to his art - much more than what you might call
'normal' martial arts training. Which was not what I'd had in mind, but
it wasn't too bad at first.

His hard driving did pay off, though, for I was doing very well. You
know all those things that we take almost for granted around here now? I
mean things like manifesting your aura, and jumping very high with a lot
of hangtime. Standard Nerima Martial Artist stuff. As normal and as
standard as they seem, we all learned how to do these things somewhere.
I learned them under Master Ryuu-ou, practically in my first month under
his tuition.

But the main thing to Ryuuenkioujutsu was of course controlling your ki.
I was surprised to learn that ki-blasts were only a small part of it.
There were all sorts of things I could do, the ultimate of which was
remote ki control - the most obvious of which are ki-blasts like the
Chouryuuenbashira, but Ryuu-ou hinted that a lot more could be done. But
when he started talking about remote ki control, he actually became sad
and clammed up, refusing to talk about it anymore for days.

He did eventually teach me how to do the Chouryuuenbashira - at first he
merely wanted to see if I could do it. He told me that of all the things
he'd seen in the world, he'd very rarely seen remote ki control, and that
it was an amazing ability if you could do it right. This cheered me up
no end, even though everything else about my first Chouryuuenbashira
attempt was pitiful.

When I had time, he would drag me off on all-important training trips.
Which were good for my advancement but really strained the master-student
relationship. These trips really brought out the worst in him. While he
was merely superior and arrogant when we were training back in town, on
the trips he became very hard and very difficult.

A lot of the time, it would be training trips into the bush, with very
little money between us. The idea was to live rough and spend every day
training and nothing else. Though his idea of training was... something
else...

He'd decide to go to the nearest town - but have me carry him the whole
way. Now, he may be an old guy, but after thirty kilometers he can get
very heavy. According to him, this was for strength and endurance
training.

Once, while we were in a town, he mysteriously disappearred and teld me
to wait by a fruit stand. Just a few minutes later he showed up, being
chased by a large mob of screaming, angry women, threw a large bag at me,
and just as quickly disappearred again. I opened the bag out of
curiosity - it was full of female underwear. Then the mob descended upon
me and beat me senseless.

The second time this happened I tried to run away, but Master Ryuu-ou had
prepared for this - he shoved me over then kicked me back towards the
women. And the third time, and the fourth time - every single time I got
left to the mob while he got away scot-free. In my opinion this was very
unfair. In his opinion this was to increase my toughness.

And so it went. He took us to very expensive restaurants, then skipped
out, leaving me to wash dishes. 'The repetitive arm motions improve
striking and blocking', he would say as I staggered into camp and
collapsed, my arms going into muscular spasms.

After a couple of years of this I must admit I was getting a bit tired of
it. But I gritted my teeth and stuck with it; I told myself I had to
endure, that this was a test of my dedication. And besides, as I said it
was only on the trips that his treatment became particularly evil.
Normally he was okay.

And then on a particularly tough trip I staggered back to camp after
being badly beaten by a bevy of beauties, opened my bag to get something
to read and relax by, and discovered to my horror that all the Terry
Pratchett books I'd brought were gone. Along with almost all of my other
personal effects. That was when something inside me snapped, and a
rebellious voice started making itself heard.

It's just some books, came the wheedling reply.

AND my walkman, and half my tape collection, said the rebellious voice.

Whatever. It's just stuff. What about dedication?

Dedication be damned, he's just done the unthinkable. He KNOWS how much
I set by them.

I looked back at him with a glare. He stared back.

"We need the money, boy."

"As if. You haven't needed money since this trip began."

"Oh?" He swigged some wine from the bottle in his hand.

The bottle I hadn't seen anywhere in camp that morning. The red I was
seeing became redder.

"You... hocked most of my Terry Pratchett collection and my walkman and
half my tape collection... just so you could buy some cheap wine?" A
small part of me noticed I was so angry I was manifesting a reddish black
aura, but the rest of me ignored it.

"And beer, and I even found some sake in this neck of the woods." He
wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "You really should learn
how to pack better. You didn't need half of that stuff with you on this
trip." He waved a can of beer at me. "Want one?"

"You old freak..." I growled.

"What was that, boyo?" he snapped.

"I called you an old freak," I said, enjoying myself.

He fixed chillingly cold eyes on me. Suddenly I felt very scared. "You
shall address me as 'Master' and no less, *boy*. Is that clear?"

"Yeah yeah," I mumbled. "Master," I added as an afterthought.

There was a dangerous, chilled pause between us. You know that cliche
about the tension being so thick it could be cut with a knife? This was
one of those situations it seemed to have been invented for.

Dedication won out and I stuck with him. For about two days, and then
one night things between us went beyond my resolve.

The next day we were to start heading back home - a trip that could take
several days. As I set up my bedroll, I tried to make some light
conversation. "Better turn in for the night. Got an early start
tomorrow morning, so we can get home in time."

"Who said anything about going back?"

"WHAT?!?" Just one statement from him and I was seeing red again. "It's
the only I'll get back to school in time! And the agreement was that you
could take me on these trips as long as they did not interfere with my
education! You break that agreement, and-"

"You call that an education? It's all fancy algebra and the p's and q's
of logic and who wrote what stupid poem two hundred years ago and stuff
about gravity you never needed to know. Hardly stuff you need to know,
boy."

"I see, master. Not only do you put me through hell and call it
'training' or sell MY things to buy alcohol fro yourself, you change the
terms and definitions of the agreement after it's been made. Well good
night. I don't care what you're doing tomorrow, I'm going home."

"Running home to your mother, boy? I thought you had more staying power."

"I HAVE staying power. I have no further patience for you. Good night."

He might supposedly be a venerable old man and a master of his craft, but
just like the rest of us he can get drunk. Quite amazingly drunk,
actually. That night, I waited until I heard his drunken snores, then
picked up my bag and bedroll and left, under cover of darkness. That was
the last I saw of him for several years.

* * * * *

On the several day long trip home, though, I ran into the other most
annoying and hated person in my life - Locae, the Rogue Demon.
Thankfully, unlike Ryuu-ou, he's unlikely to be coming back.

Well, I didn't run into him, he ran into me.

One night I was jarred from my sleep by a crashing sound through the
bush. I immediately thought it was Ryuu-ou, but quickly banished that
thought. The old freak wouldn't make so much noise.

So it was something else. But what?

I was going to get a chance to find out, real soon, for it now sounded
like it was coming my way, as if it had changed course.

About ten metres away from me there burst into view this indistinct
figure.

Actually, it's kind of funny the way the two most hated people in my life
appeared first as indistinct figures. Maybe it's so I can't assess them
quick enough before they start wrecking my life quite thoroughly.

Anyway.

All I could make out was that this figure was probably male, had red
skin, and yellow hair in a long ponytail. And then its body fell to the
ground, as a yellow transparent figure continued on its trajectory and
shot straight into my chest.

I mean that literally. It actually entered my body, and I could feel
an... essence... spreading throughout my body. And then I could sense
things through two different sets of senses and I could hear another mind
and its thoughts inside my head. This additional essence started to fade
rapidly, thank goodness, for I don't know how long I could have handled
that.

And then, before I could even think properly, a large mob of extremely
ferocious looking redskinned things burst into the clearing. Some were
inhumanly large, some had blazing inhuman eyes, some had fangs upon
fangs, and all looked extremely ferocious.

I quickly shoved my fear aside. I could probably disorganise them with
some well placed ki blasts, and then, if I was lucky, get away. If I was
lucky. A voice I'd never heard before inside my head asked me if I was
crazy and if I knew what I was up against.

Before I could start readying myself for this plan, though, one of the
newcomers opened its mouth.

"'Scuse me, bud," it asked in a gravelly voice, "but 'ave ya seen a
redskinned bloke with a poncy yellow ponytail run through here?"

I blinked, and could feel sweat on the back of my head.

"Ah... he - " I started.

What happened next was strange. It was like I was having an out-of-body
experience, but I was still in my own body. I could feel my own body,
but it wasn't doing what I'd told it to do, but something else entirely.
Basically, like I wasn't in control anymore.

" - went that way," I heard myself saying, and found myself jerking my
thumb over my shoulder. Internally, I was screaming defiance, but
outwards I was all calm and polite and helpful.

"Thanks bud," said the thing, and it and all the rest of them started
running off in the direction my thumb had pointed.

About ten minutes passed before I could control myself again. Which is a
bloody long time to be out of control of your own body, let me tell you.
The first thing I did when I found I had my body back again was to rant
and rave and scream somewhat.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

"Interesting choice of words," said an internal voice. The same voice, I
noted, that had asked me if I was crazy before.

"WHAT??"

"Don't shout out so loud, they might hear you and come back. Keep it to a
whisper, or even better keep it internal."

"All right, you," I said in my head. "What's going on?"

"Hi. I'm Locae, a Rogue Demon. Ignore me, please?"

As if I was going to ignore him.

Stupid humans, they never ignore me when I ask them to.

"WHAT?"

Oops, forgot a host can hear my thoughts.

"HOSTS?"

"Look", the voice said reasonably, "if you stand around shouting 'what'
and 'hosts' all the time you're going to attract demonic attention.
Something we don't want."

I really hate it when people talk reasonably to me.

"Oh?" I really hate it when humans are irritable and annoying like this.

"Look, this isn't going to work, whoever you are. So why don't you just
piss off?"

"You look. I'm a Rogue Demon, on the run, and those normally aligned
demons are after me. I have to hide from them. They're not going to
give up very easily, and will keep looking for centuries if they have to.
If I hide in you, hiding my essence behind yours, then it'll be
impossible for them to find. You'll find it impossible to sense any of
me, either."

"Sounds good to me."

"If you ever want to talk to me, though, just say my name, and I'll come
forth, okay?"

"Alright," I said grudgingly. I felt the presence inside me slowly fade
out, as if it had never been.

Well. I'd ditched my master and been possessed, all in the space of a
week. These were definitely interesting times. I hoped they got boring
again pretty quick.

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