THE DISTINGUISHED COUNTERFEIT
IN ASSOCIATION
WITH
THE HOUSE OF PLAGARISM
PRESENTS
MAN WITHOUT LIMITS
Chapter One
The thunderous knocking startled everyone in the Tendo house. "Wah!" yelled Akane, her hand slamming into the brick. It did not shatter as it should, but rather hurt her hand rather nicely, bruising it. She yelled out again, and shook her hand, trying to relieve the pain.
"Quark," snuffled Nabiki, choking slightly on a Fig Newton, the manga she had been reading flying out of her hand. She coughed loudly, hacking out fruity goodness with globs of saliva.
"Iiieee!" screamed Kasumi, scalding herself on some hot water. She quickly placed her hand in some cold water, and sighed. It was going to sting later, she just knew.
"Hooshaa," Soun gasped out, the smoke billowing out of his mouth. He too hacked out loud, but finally stopped and took another drag from his cigarette.
A sudden silence filled the air, shocking in contrast to the staccato blasting beat just a few seconds before.
"Err . . . Kasumi-chan?" Soun called out weakly, reluctant to break the silence, his voice still slightly hoarse. "Could you get the door?"
"Ah, ah . . ." Kasumi sweated slightly, and with an equally sickly smile, she said, "Of course, Father." There will come a day, Kasumi thought, oh yes. She walked to the door, a small, very small storm cloud gathering about her, as she dwelled on her stinging hand. It was not going to be a good day.
"H-hello?" Kasumi said, as she opened the door very, very slightly and peering out of the small crack. "Who, who is it?"
"Hi! The name’s Ranma, and you’re expecting me, right?"
"And you’re who again?" asked Nabiki, slightly hostile. She didn’t like being shocked, and even less so by a stranger. It was a good thing that milk cures all, especially when it comes to choking on cookies.
"Ranma," he said. He stared at them, and repeated. "Ranma Saotome. Aren’t you expecting me?"
"No," Soun said slowly, dragging it out. Could it possibly be . . . "Your father, he’s Genma Saotome, right?"
"Yeah, sure," Ranma answered.
"Oh, happy day!" Soun yelled. He went over to Ranma, and hugged him. "Welcome to the family, son!"
"Huh?" Ranma said.
"What?" Akane said. She was cradling her hand, lightly wrapped in bandages, biding her time until she could mug the little bugger that distracted her so and caused her sprained hand. Then a rather fatuous expression came upon her; at least it would give her an excuse to see Dr. Tofu, yes indeed.
"Blurble?" Nabiki said. She frowned slightly; she wasn’t used to blurting out nonsense like a two-year-old. It was most disturbing. This stranger, though most certainly cute, was disturbing her tranquility; he would have to pay a most terrible price.
"Oh my?" Kasumi said. Her hand had stopped stinging, but it was still red and a bit raw, and the throbbing was most annoying. Perhaps she would help her little sister mug the little bugger as well, as soon as she saw that nice and very silly Dr. Tofu.
"Ranma, prepare to . . ." said the girl with purple tresses as she burst through the closed door, destroying it. She had a sword drawn, but before she could use it, or even finish the sentence, she collapsed onto the floor, and lay there, gasping for air.
"Oh, hey, Shampoo. Took you long enough to catch up," Ranma said nonchalantly, as he went over to the fallen girl.
"Shut up, Ranma," gasped out Shampoo, waving the sword in the air feebly.
"My, isn’t this an exciting day," Nabiki commented. Thank goodness she hadn’t blurted out something like ‘fermion’ or something to that effect.
"Isn’t it, though," Kasumi agreed. Chopping knife, chopping knife, chop, chop, chop.
"What in the rowdy hootenanny is going on?" Akane asked of the world. ‘Rowdy hootenanny’? she was starting to turn into Nabiki. Brr, she thought.
"Ah ha, well, I have some good news for you, girls," Soun said with a wide grin. "One of you is getting engaged!"
"To who?" Ranma asked, though he already guessed the answer.
"To you, of course." Soun was rather looking forward to having a drink or two with his old friend in celebration of this momentous occasion. Well, possibly more than two.
"Right, I’m out of here," Ranma muttered. He picked up the fallen Shampoo, flopped her over his shoulder, much to her consternation, and prepared to leave. However, before he could even start to get out, his father showed up, gasping for air.
"R-R-R-R- gurgle," gasped out Genma. He too collapsed onto the floor, much like Shampoo before him.
"Saotome!" yelled out Soun enthusiastically. He went down onto the floor, and hugged his long-lost friend.
"T-, gasp, gasp, gasp," Genma responded.
"It’s been so long!"
"Gasp. Pant. Etc."
"Ah, I see that you’ve gained a little weight, eh, Saotome?' Soun teased amiably.
"Gasp, pant, good one, Tendo, wheeze," Genma responded.
“Isn’t this a happy day, Saotome?”
“Yes,” mumbled Genma. He stood up, and after wobbling a bit, he turned to his son. “Isn’t this a happy day?” He was waggling his eyebrows outrageously, trying to telepathically tell his son something.
“No.” With that, energy gathered around Ranma, skittering about his body like lightning. A scarlet aura sprung around him and his body blurred slightly. His voice sounding like bees were mixed with a V-8 engine in his mouth, he said, “I’m going to go somewhere you can’t find me, you crazy idiot.” With that, he ran out very, very, very quickly, a slight trail of fire, that went out as quickly as it came, grew in his wake. The wind, oddly enough, did not billow behind him like a vacuum. It was a most disturbing sight, to see a person there one moment, and in less than an eye-blink gone.
“What in the seven hells?” muttered Akane. All others save Genma just gaped. “What just happened?”
“Umm . . . it looks like Ranma ran away,” Nabiki said. “Very, very quickly. In a manner that defies reality.” Just like that guy in Okayama, she thought. Just like . . .
------
“Who does he think he is, trying to run my life. I run my life very well, I should think,” ranted Ranma, as he ran over the raging waters of the sea. “Very well, yes. Look at me, I’m running my life amazingly well even, don’t you think, Shampoo?”
“Yes, Ranma,” said Shampoo in a dull monotone. When he went on like this, all anyone could do was just ride it out. She sighed slightly, and resigned herself to not having the pleasure of whapping Ranma upside the head. If she did, they would almost certainly skip on the ocean like a rounded stone going at mach-5, or better. “Whatever you say, Ranma.”
“Damn straight,” he said. After a bit of thinking, during which time they ran through Taiwan and then into Mainland China, he said with a bit of contrition, “Uh, Shampoo, umm . . . sorry about picking you up like this.”
“It’s ok, Ranma.” Now, she finally let herself enjoy being so close to Ranma, if only it weren’t on his shoulder.
“Yeah, sure.” He ran on, day turning into night. “You want to go back to the village?”
“Not . . . really,” she answered. There wasn’t much to do in the village at this time of year, and besides, she wanted to stay with Ranma, even if that meant having to be slung over his shoulder by the stomach. Shampoo's neck was starting to develop a crick, and her stomach was getting a bit unsettled. “I want to get off your shoulders, though.”
“Right, right, let me just stop,” Ranma said with a not-so-quiet-confidence. He had tried this trick before, but it had resulted in . . . well, better to not think of that little incident. However, he was quite certain that he could make it work out this time.
“Uh, don’t you mean ‘slow down’?” Shampoo asked, her fear causing her voice to quiver.
“Nope,” Ranma replied, much to Shampoo’s dismay. “Stop.”
“Oh boy.”
Soon, a scream was heard and a wall of fire was seen somewhere in the Balkan area.
“Never do that again,” Shampoo said, waving a glowing red sword and patting out small flames on her clothes. “Especially with me around.”
“Aaww,” Ranma whined.
“Never.”
“Right, right. Could you put that sword down?”
-----
“So . . . what?” Akane asked, staring at Genma.
“Well, while in China . . .” Genma said, trailing off a bit and, in that pause, snacked.
They were sitting in the dining room, a plate of spiced crackers in front of them as well as a steaming pot of green tea atop the well-lacquered wooden table. The sun had set a few moments ago, and the fluorescent lights were just starting to flicker on.
“There was a storm in the wilds of China that began one day,” related Genma. “It didn’t end for two weeks, and by that time we were wet, angry, and very hungry. The boy started to mouth off and, as a father, I had to teach him what-for. Well, he started fighting back, as he should, and we ended up in a village somewhere in the Bayankala mountain range. Uh, what happened next . . . umm . . . you really have to worry about collateral damage when the owners have a lot of weapons to wave at you.”
“Heh,” laughed Genma nervously, as he stared at all those swords that were pointed at his throat. “There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding.”
“Yeah,” piped out Ranma, who was also staring at the naked blades with something approaching fear, “See, this is all his fault,” he said, pointing at Genma. “Never seen him before in my life, but he called me ‘son’ and started attacking me for no good reason. Probably a crazy, stupid ass of a martial artist driven insane by his utter idiocy.” “How can you sell out your own father, Ranma?” Genma asked, a bit shocked.
“Who’s Ranma?”
Genma paused, and then with tears of joy running down his cheeks, though with the rain it was hard to tell, he said, “It does a father proud to see such a son like you, my boy.”
“Thanks, Pop.” The swords came a bit closer to his neck, a feather’s touch away from piercing. “Whoops.”
“Good going,” muttered Genma disparagingly.
“Shut, up, Pop.”
-----
“So there we were, facing almost certain death by some very beautiful women,” went on Genma, “which, let me tell you, is not the worst way to go, when suddenly . . .”
-----
“Stop,” ordered an old, shrunken, desiccated woman that looked like a piece of jerky grown tough by time and the light of a quasar.
The other warriors backed away reluctantly, drawing the swords from the two Saotomes’ throats. She peered at them from the height of her hardwood staff, and said with a voice filled with amusement, “Having a bit of domestic troubles, are we?”
“Err . . . yes, I suppose that could be said,” dithered Genma, thankful of the respite, and looking for a possible escape route for himself. He could see none, and this depressed him slightly, though not by much. He stared at the old woman, and had a sudden flashback to his own old master, and responded to her appropriately. He genuflected onto the muddy road they were on. “Mas . . . err, ma’am.”
“Hrm, at least you know how to grovel well,” the old woman, who was known as Cologne, said with a slight nod. She then looked at Ranma, who was staring at his father with open contempt, and said, “But it appears that the boy here has some measure of pride in him.”
“This ain’t pride, grandma, it’s self respect,” replied Ranma with a slight smirk that died a slow, resistant death when the gathered horde of amazons growled and surged slightly forward, arms drawn.
“Yes, you’ll need that,” Cologne said with a nod. She turned to the women, and said, “Keep them covered, and lead them to the jails.
However, I want no ‘accidents’ along the way; none at all, fatal or otherwise. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” muttered the women sulkily in the language of the Saotomes’, as Cologne had.
“Good.”
-----
“Later,” went on Genma, making his way through a small ‘snack’ that probably would have fed a small African nation. “That old woman, Cologne, came to visit us, or rather, she came to visit the boy.”
-----
“Hello, boy,” Cologne said.
They had been stuck in a rather small, but clean, cell that was quite strong and rather modern. They had been fed some soup a few hours beforehand, and surprisingly enough, the two had not fought over who would get the lion’s share of the meal, learning momentarily that fighting wasn’t always a good thing. “What the hell do you want, granny?” growled out Ranma, sulking in a corner of the cell, his legs wrapped around his arms in a tight ball.
“I’ve come to make you an offer you can’t refuse,” Cologne said.
She paused, and grinned. She always said that whenever she could, much to the consternation of anyone who hated that particular cliché. At least she didn’t do the voice.
“Yeah? ‘Cause there’s a lot that I can refuse; comes from living a moral and ascetic life,” muttered Ranma.
“However,” said Genma grandly, standing high with lightning from the still continuing storm flashing and thundering in the background, “as his father, I accept in his name. Whatever the dangers, whatever the peril, whatever the mind-numbing horrors, my son shall face up to them as a brave student of Anything-Goes martial arts should! Let the challenges come, oh worthy elder, my son will face them with a stoic heart even unto death!”
A moment of silence greeted that incredibly bombastic speech, and then the verbal explosion Genma knew would come came.
“The hell I will!” snarled out Ranma, also standing up and in a battle stance, his aura flaring brightly with righteous indignation or just plain fury. He turned to Cologne and said, “Could you have someone garrote him? Slowly?”
“It’s a thought,” Cologne said with a slightly demonic grin that caused Genma to cringe reflexively. “However, let me finish.
“What I want to offer you, boy, is a chance in a lifetime, especially for an outsider: a chance to train under me . . . Cologne,” she offered.
“That’s some name you got there, lady,” quipped Ranma. “Ever been to France?” He immediately got whacked upside the head. The stars greeted him, and sang the song of the mockingbird.
“Once again, I accept in his name,” Genma said. He looked down at the dazed and confused Ranma, and said, “Oh, you’ll probably need to do that a lot to him; he’s got one smart mouth.”
-----
“So started Ranma’s intense training in the arts of the amazons, and my time as a short-order cook in the village’s famous Number Two restaurant. Let me tell you, that was a hard job, especially when the menu changed completely every other day.”
-----
“Chestnut fist?” Ranma said, staring into the bonfire. “Senility is so very sad.”
“Quiet, my boy, I don’t want to have to treat another of your concussions, and the apothecary said that he was out of aspirin,” Cologne said, as she dropped a bag of chestnuts into the open flame. “Now then, try to grab the chestnuts.”
“Right, let me . . . oh, wait a minute . . .” Ranma stared at Cologne. “Why is that training always seems like an excuse for rampant sadism, eh?”
“It’s a mystery,” Cologne replied facetiously. “Now grab the chestnuts.”
Ranma, after he gathered his strength, lashed out towards the fire and got burnt. “Ouch,” he said softly.
“Now keep on doing that until you can take out the chestnuts from the fire.”
------
“And so it went on,” said Genma.
------
“Right, simple strength building training, I can do this,” Ranma said a touch unconfident. “Simple as a pound cake.” He was wrapped in wire frame that hindered his every move, but most especially in the legs.
“Not quite,” Cologne said. She led the halting Ranma to a veritable forest of twenty-foot tall poles no more than two inches in diameter and long gaps in-between. “Climb up there, and start leaping. Don’t stop until you can touch upon on the poles three times around.”
“Man, I swear, if I live through this, you are so very doomed.”
------
“And on.”
------
“Oh, god, why have you abandoned your favorite son?” asked Ranma of God. God answered, you’ll see, but silently.
“Come on, boy, having your limbs strapped to wild horses and letting them run in opposite directions isn't THAT bad,” Cologne said, just as she adjusted the ropes.
“You have been to France, haven’t you?” Ranma said with a great deal of apprehension and suspicion. “When I come back as a ghost, I swear I’ll eat your children and your grandchildren unto the last generation.”
“That’s nice,” Cologne said. She slapped all the horses’ bottoms hard and simultaneously with a slight flash of chi, and said to Ranma, “Now remember to breathe.”
------
“And on. Until one day . . .”
------
“And I’m just supposed to drink this . . . sludge?” asked Ranma, looking distastefully at the cooling black cauldron. “And after I drink this, you’re going to put me in that big pot, aren’t you.”
“I can assure you, you will not be turned into a zombie,” Cologne reassured him, or at least tried to. Even she didn’t sound all that optimistic. “There is, however, a strong possibility that you will blow up into countless bloody pieces.”
“Ppphhhtttt!” went Ranma, as he spat out the mucky ooze. “This tastes awful!” After rinsing his mouth out with a couple of handy gourds, he finally looked up at Cologne. “And what was that you said?”
“Uh . . . there is, however, a strong possibility that you will throw up the potion on the floor . . . uh in countless pieces,” Cologne prevaricated, quite badly at that. “Which you did, so you should learn to listen to your elders.”
“Not when they should be twelve feet under,” muttered Ranma, as he wiped away some loose spittle from the corner of his mouth.
“I am not a zombie,” muttered Cologne, as she knocked Ranma unconscious with her staff. She looked down, and sighed. “Me and my temper . . .”
-----
“Hold up for the minute,” Nabiki said, waving her arms. “How do you know all that when you weren’t there?”
“Who said that I wasn’t there?”
“Ah.”
------
“Drink the drink,” ordered Cologne, as she ‘urged’ the purple vial into Ranma’s face.
“I don’t want to drink it,” rebuffed Ranma, his face inching further and further away from the withered hand and the potion it held. “Why should I?”
“Because this is the final step in the training that you’ve been on for these past few months, the training that will hopefully take you beyond where martial training will take you. To see someone successfully go through this is a . . . dream of mine,” Cologne said with a little wonder.
“Why? Have other people done this?”
“Of course others have, child. Why else would I say that seeing someone go through this successfully is a dream, eh?” she answered in a testy manner, getting a bit annoyed at Ranma’s constant whining and questioning. “Drink it or don’t; I am becoming tired of your complaints.”
He stared down at the glass vial, and tried to think. He wanted to be the best in the world (already am, already am, said a wandering thought), and if drinking this potion would help him be that, well . . . However, would drinking the potion be like taking steroids? Wouldn’t it be cheating? But . . . “What exactly is this going to do?” “This alone?” Cologne pondered on the best way to put the answer. “It’s a magic potion that will keep you on this earth when and if the Lightning comes to you.”
“What’s the ‘Lightning’?” asked Ranma, hearing the capitalization. He still had not drank of the potion, but was getting closer to a decision, one way or another.
“We don’t know.”
“Fabulous,” Ranma said sarcastically.
“We do know a few things,” went on Cologne. “It’s a gift from . . . the gods, I suppose, to a chosen worthy enough.”
“But what does it do?” asked Ranma insistently.
“The only person who has successfully done this lived a few centuries before I was born, but the records are still alright, it its own way. They speak of a great warrior, going to the mountains after a terrible battle against a great enemy, to find purity. It had been raining for months, much like now, and the valley ran with rivers of blood.”
“Is this going somewhere?” Ranma immediately got whapped upside the head. He glared at Cologne through the tears of pain, and rubbed at the rising bump.
“I’ve almost had enough of your insolence, boy. Keep quiet, I’m almost at the point.” Cologne gulped down a glass of water, and continued. “Youths today. Anyway, this warrior went up the mountain, thunder and lightning playing dramatically across the sky, and sat under a tall tree.”
“Not very sma-Ow!”
“What did I tell you about insolence? Right, where was I? Warrior, tree, lightning; while trying to gain some peace of spirit, a great bolt of lightning, greater than any other lightning witnessed before, struck that brave fighter. Now, normally, when someone is struck by lightning, they either die or are damaged in some way, but this warrior lived through it and saw . . . well, it was either never written down or is lost, but the warrior saw something grand and wonderful. So grand and wonderful that most people who go through the Lightning never come back, or are blasted into insanity by it.”
“Didn’t you say that there was going to be a point soon? Awk!”
He then rubbed a third bump on his noggin.
“You’re not very quick on the uptake are you, my boy?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go on, old crone.”
“Ahem, this warrior gained speed. This warrior could run around the world in a second, go through walls, defeat the greatest of gods and devils, break through to the gossamer worlds outside of ours. Then, one day, the warrior disappeared. Since then, we have tried to draw the Lightning to another person, the chosen, and hope that they prove worthy enough for the Lightning to not kill them. We have used the potion to help them keep their sanity and not get lost in he glory of whatever it is they see.” Cologne finished, and stared at Ranma, who was mulling over what he had heard. “Well? What do you think?”
“Is this is a crock of dirt?” Ranma asked.
“No.”
“Shoot, course I’ll do it. Doing something that killed everyone else and then getting to run around the world, why wouldn’t I?” Ranma said confidently. He quickly downed the vial, and grimaced broadly. “The second time isn’t much better. You know, old woman, you should have told me this in the first place.”
“Come, we haven’t much time.” With that, Cologne led Ranma out of the house and out into the pouring rain. “The potion will not last too long.”
“Maybe you should have given it to me at the tree,” muttered Ranma, getting surly and discontent again.
“Don’t make me drag you there by the hair, boy. I’d just get even more annoyed than I am now,” Cologne said with a grin, feeling the exultation of hope at the prospect of seeing the Lightning again, and, hopefully, finally, seeing a fighter that truly had no limits.
-----
“Ok, your son was going to go to almost certain death,” Nabiki said, stopping Genma, “and you did nothing?”
“The path of a true martial artist is fraught with peril,” intoned both Genma and Soun solemnly.
“In fact, Tendo, from the reaction of your daughters here, I think that maybe you’ve been a little . . . soft on them,” Genma lightly critiqued.
“Yes, well, my dear departed wife wouldn’t put up with the more interesting training methods I know, and ever . . . ever since . . . aaaa,” moaned Soun, who then went on a crying binge. Genma quickly gathered his friend into his arms and started patting his back.
“There, there, Tendo, let it out,” muttered Genma.
After a few moments, while Nabiki and Akane sat in embarrassed silence, and Kasumi too tried to comfort her father, Soun was collected enough for Genma to go on with the story.
-----
“Couldn’t I have brought an umbrella,” asked Ranma, his clothes soaked through by the rain, “instead of this rod?”
“Oh, do stop whining, boy. And as for the rod . . . well, I figure, if a tree works, a tree with a lightning rod would work better,” Cologne said, just before hopping off the mountaintop. “Just stay there until you get struck by Lightning, boy!” she yelled to him.
“Hey, wait! Aw, nerts,” muttered Ranma after Cologne. He sat down on the muddy, wet, squelchy ground and held up the rod. He brooded on how boring this was, and how he could be in a warm room, but no, he had to sit there and take it.
Of course, before he could complain for too long, the Lightning struck him.
A bolt from the black it was, golden in its glory. It traveled faster than light could, and it took Ranma in. And Ranma found the universe plopped into his skull.
She was right, thought the very small portion of Ranma’s mind still capable of a passing reflection. This is . . . something.
For words defied the wonders that Ranma saw, and afterwards he only got brief flashes of memory. But what he saw, and the impressions he retained were one of . . . “It was like,” Ranma told Cologne later, “seeing through God’s eyes.”
-----
“And that’s how my boy is able to run faster than the wind,” Genma concluded.
"Pretty weird stuff," Nabiki commented, munching on a cracker.
"Yeah," agreed Akane. "So what happened next?"
"Well, as to that . . ."
To be continued: