----------------------------- Nerima's Other Passion By Grayson Towler ----------------------------- Night had fallen in Nerima, and with it came the requisite dreams, starlight, and Martial Artist antics. The citizenry at large tried, as always, to ignore the occasional thump of feet which was still audible through the reinforced and heavily soundproofed rooftops favored in the local architecture. Children huddled in their beds and tried not to be afraid when a manic peal of laughter echoed through the night. The stalwart members of the Nerima Police Force (all three of them) hung out in a secluded basement, drinking beer, playing darts, and pretending they'd never heard of "assault and battery." To the casual observer, it seemed that the night belonged to the Marital Artists. It was not a stretch to say that the day belonged to them as well. And this was as it should be, for in Nerima there exists a passion for the Martial Arts which would have made ancient Sparta seem like a hippie commune. The eternal struggles, the hopeless romances, the devastating techniques, the fights to the (supposedly) death - these were the day-to-day dramas, comedies, and tragedies which gave Nerima its life and vitality. Most action films did very poorly at the local box offices. But, contrary to popular belief, the night was not wholly the domain of the Marital Artists. There were others who moved in the shadows, silent and invisible, always watching, always ready to act. Even the Martial Artists, with their keen senses and awareness of danger, had barely glimpsed them. Tonight, they were waiting, as they always did. Cloaked in the blackness of night and shadow, they waited with tense anticipation. As always, it was one person in particular who carried their fondest hopes and secret desires... ----- Hibiki Ryouga was wandering the night, brooding. This would hardly have been a surprise to those who knew him. Nor would it have come as a terrible surprise to learn what it was that he was getting himself into such a lather about. As if to alleviate any doubt (not that he thought anybody was watching him), he threw a punch at a nearby concrete wall, shattering it like glass, and shouted the name: "SAOTOME RANMA! CURSE YOU!!" Oh sure, they had buried the hatchet about a lot of their past grievances. Ryouga was cured of the pig, he had let go of Akane, and the bread feud was long over... but there was still no person alive who could annoy Ryouga quite so thoroughly as Ranma. It had started when Ranma had been boasting about his supposedly inevitable success in the upcoming King of Nerima tournament. The sound of Ranma stroking his own ego was a thousand times worse than the sound of fingernails raking the surface of a chalkboard, as far as Ryouga was concerned. "Hey, if it's got Martial Arts in it," Ranma had asserted smugly, "I can't lose!" It had been at this juncture that Ryouga had felt it necessary to remind Ranma of the Anything Goes Martial Arts Obstacle Course Race. Sure, Ryouga's memories of the whole thing were bittersweet (as were virtually all of his memories), since he had been unable to take advantage of the trip to China he had won in the race (couldn't find the airport). But that didn't matter, not really. He had WON that time. He had beaten Ranma in a Martial Arts competition, fair and square. Ranma seemed to conveniently forget that. "Aw, that wasn't really a fight," Ranma had said dismissively. "Besides, you'd have never made it to the finish line if I hadn't helped ya out along the way, right P-Chan?" He had yelled at Ranma to shut up, still petrified that Akane would someday figure out the whole P-Chan thing and exact a terrible revenge. (As always, Akane had completely missed the reference, and had simply bashed Ranma on the head for picking on Ryouga.) And then the conversation had moved on. Ryouga's thoughts, however, had been stuck on the issue all day, and well into the evening. Ranma's ego. Ranma's damned luck. Ranma's victories. There were times when he had come SO close to beating Ranma fair and square. Just a little more luck, just a little more time... he KNEW he had what it took to beat Ranma. Ryouga ran through his memories of so many fights with his bitter rival. He was sure that if Akane hadn't interrupted their fight at the Martial Arts Figure Skating Tournament ("The Charlotte Cup", indeed!), he would have defeated Saotome. So many times Ranma had escaped defeat because Ryouga had inconveniently turned into a pig. Then there was the time that Kuno had interrupted, and that other time that... And so on. But he found, as he searched his memories, that he kept coming back to one particular day. He had just learned the bakusai ten-ketsu technique from Cologne, and he and Ranma had fought in the countryside. There had been no interruptions, no distractions... and he had ALMOST won. If only... if only... Ryouga growled. If only Cologne had told him the true purpose of his training in the breaking point technique, rather than allowing him to believe that he could actually use the attack directly on Ranma. Ranma had survived the day because Ryouga had been telegraphing his attacks, attempting to get one good shot in with the bakusai ten-ketsu and end the fight in a single blow. Had he known that such an offensive strategy was worthless, he knew he would have beaten Ranma with conventional martial arts. Ranma's blows had glanced off him like a gentle rainfall that day. Gods, he had never felt that strong before... Maybe he hadn't beaten Ranma then, but he'd sure as hell wiped that smug look off his face for a while. Clearly, on the day of that fight, Ryouga's endurance had been at its peak. While his durability and strength had always remained higher than Ranma's, he knew that he had never been at quite that magnificent level of near-invulnerability since the time immediately after his week of brutal training with rock and rope. It only made sense, then, that if he were to match the intensity of Cologne's regimen - no, if he were to SURPASS it - then he would push his endurance past even the limits that he and Ukyou had tested when they had trained together in the countryside. Then, when it came time to fight in the tournament, his body would be like a piece of iron, impervious to even Ranma's strongest blows... It would be painful, to be sure. But what was mere physical pain to one such as Hibiki Ryouga? What were a few nights of body-wrecking torture when compared with the opportunity to see that fear in Ranma's eyes again? On the surface, Ryouga understood that there were other fighters in the King of Nerima tournament, but in his heart it was the same battle that he had been fighting for years: him against Ranma. This time, it was a tournament. This time, he wouldn't be turning into a pig. This time, there would be no interruptions. This time, there would be no place for Ranma to run. This time... "SAOTOME RANMA! THIS time you will FALL!" And with that, Ryouga took a running start, took a flying leap, and hit a concrete embankment head-first at full speed. ----- Muhoshin Ryo had been watching Ryouga for the better part of the evening, as was his occasional habit when he had no other matters of great import to attend (and when he had grown tired of arguing with his youngest sibling about possible alternatives to his current hairstyle). Accustomed as he was to Ryouga's violent mood swings and unpredictable shifts of direction, even he would not have guessed that Ryouga would, out of the blue, suddenly begin to fling himself head first into whatever solid objects he could find. WHAM! This time it was the side of a parking garage. Ryouga met it spread-eagle after springing off a street lamp. Ryo watched with morbid fascination as his rival peeled himself out of the vaguely Ryouga-shaped crater in the wall, staggered around woozily, and then backed up to take another flying leap at the damaged wall. "RANMA!" he shouted. WHAM! The facade collapsed. Ryouga was buried under an avalanche of concrete and rebar. Ryo watched, a curious twinkle in his (Gosunkugi-like) eyes, as Ryouga extricated himself from the wreckage, laughed like a maniac, then charged off in a random direction. At first, Ryo couldn't fathom what the idiot thought he was doing. It seemed like the lost boy was intent on beating himself to a pulp. While Ryo could certainly understand THAT sentiment, he somehow doubted that Ryouga was attempting to end his own life in this rather unorthodox fashion. It also didn't explain why he was shouting his friend's name, over and over, in what was assuredly rage. Was he hallucinating, perhaps? It seemed there was always the odd poison, potion, or drug floating around Nerima. Perhaps Ryouga had gotten a whiff of something... Ryo watched as Ryouga staggered towards a fairly busy street. His rival wobbled a bit as he watched the cars go by, then seemed to notice the tunnel several dozen meters away. An idea seemed to seize him, and he took a flying leap onto the top of the next delivery truck which passed by. He found his footing on the top of the truck, turned and faced the upcoming stone lip of the tunnel with arms akimbo, and was summarily slammed into the overhang like a bandana-clad wrecking ball. Ryo, with great effort, managed to bite back a bark of derisive laughter. Ryouga's body fell from the tunnel overhang onto the road, where he was immediately run over by a bus coming the other way. He skittered off the road and into a nearby park, slamming to a halt against a thick tree trunk. Ryo approached cautiously, and was astonished to hear the boy snickering. "Heh... goo... good one!" Ryouga was muttering to himself. "I wonder... if I can find that tunnel again..." He wasn't hallucinating. He knew what he was doing. What on earth could he possibly... As Ryouga staggered to his feet and began a futile search for the tunnel, Ryo finally divined the answer. Ryouga was training. It was his own demented version of the boulder-on-a-rope bakusai ten-ketsu training that Ryo had witnessed in China. He was training, toughening himself up for the King of Nerima tournament. The revelation affected Ryo on several levels, though he would never have admitted it. On one level, he was tremendously annoyed at Hibiki. The idiot was obviously doing this because he was fixated on beating Saotome. Ryo was, to a degree, insulted. It would have been gratifying if Ryouga had been shouting "Muhoshin!" as he battered his way around Nerima. After all, Ryo spent every other waking hour obsessing about how he would best Hibiki. It would, he felt, have only been appropriate if Hibiki had returned the favor. a small voice in Ryo's head asked snidely. A small, violent mental struggle ensued. Ryo didn't put up with that kind of talk from anybody, even his own subconscious. Still... Still, at another level, he could not help but be grudgingly impressed by the spectacle of self-abuse before him. That Ryouga had inhuman endurance came as no surprise, though it was always rather jarring to see it so spectacularly displayed. It was Ryouga's willingness to put himself through immense physical punishment for training that made Ryo uneasy. He could cover it all he wanted by calling Hibiki an idiot, a fool, a madman, an addle-pated masochist... but the fact was that his rival was showing a level of reckless bravery that he, Ryo, would never be able to match. Ryo knew that if he followed Ryouga's example, if he trained himself in taking impacts with that kind of rigorous abandon, that he would also benefit from it. But he also knew that he would never be able to commit to abusing himself in that fashion. He liked to think of it as using his head for strategy rather than for a battering ram. He liked to interpret this as another sign that he was smarter than Ryouga. He didn't want to listen to what the voice in his head that sounded like Sensei Miyaji had to say about the whole matter... Hibiki had not found his tunnel, but he had found something else while Ryo was musing. The lost boy was atop a high-diving board, which was in turn positioned above a dry swimming pool. At first, Ryo thought the idiot was just going to swan-dive into the concrete, but then he realized that Ryouga was fumbling with a long rope. Hibiki kept checking the pool, measuring off a length of rope, muttering to himself, and generally trying to focus his mind through his punch-drunk haze. Finally, seemingly satisfied, he stood up, took a test-hop on the board, and hurled himself into the air. "RANMA!" he bellowed as he plummeted almost twenty meters into the concrete. Then Ryo saw the purpose of the rope. The other end had been affixed to the high diving board, which bent to the limit of its flexibility at the terminus of Ryouga's dive. A moment after he pounded into the concrete, the board snapped back. The recoil hurled the lost boy skywards again, up through the air past the board itself. And down he came once more. Ryo watched as the diving board dribbled Ryouga like a basketball against the bottom of the dry swimming pool. Hibiki howled confused battle cries along the way, concrete shattered, and the high dive creaked on his foundations. Something somewhere had to give... and it ended up being the high dive. As Ryouga made his descent (after who knew how many repetitions), the whole platform groaned with fatigue. Instead of snapping him back into the air, the diving apparatus - supports, ladder, pillar, board and all - plunged down after him into the pool. The thunder of destruction echoed through the night. Almost a full minute passed, and Ryo was actually beginning to hope that Hibiki had truly damaged himself in this extravagant gesture. But then he emerged, covered with the dust of pulverized concrete. His clothes were tattered, his hair was a tangle, and he was covered with bruises and small cuts... but he was laughing. Ryouga turned and surveyed the wreckage of the pool, nodding in satisfaction. "You'll see, Ranma," he growled, then coughed up a lungful of dust. "You'll see..." Still smiling, the lost boy staggered towards a tree trunk, found a soft spot of grass, and collapsed into a deep sleep. Ryo approached the recumbent martial artist, cautiously at first, but knowing full well that Ryouga slept like a log even under the best of circumstances. After that ordeal, he'd probably sleep through a natural disaster. Ryo stood over his hated enemy, glaring down at him, and thinking. He had been in this position before. He had refrained from killing Ryouga in his sleep when he'd had the chance, knowing that such an attack would not truly bring him the satisfaction that he so keenly needed. But tonight he was not so sure if he shouldn't just get it over with right here. There's nothing quite like the certain knowledge that you're going to be facing a true maniac in battle. Ryo had always known that his rival had the mental fitness of a schizophrenic emu, but he had always been loathe to accept that this trait actually gave Hibiki any actual advantage in a confrontation. Still, he wasn't quite as certain tonight. Even Ryo had to admit he couldn't match Ryouga for pure lunacy, so he'd have to rely on his intellect, which he was confident was far superior to Hibiki's. And the intelligent thing to do would be to kill the fool right here and now. Or perhaps there was another way. He might be able to turn Hibiki's own insanity against him. If he gave Ryouga an injury here, something that would not completely cripple him but would take a long time to heal, something that the tenacious madman would not allow to stop him in the tournament, something that Ryo could turn to his advantage... Yes, that was good. Ryouga would think he'd hurt himself in this absurd "training," nobody would know the better. Everybody would see Ryo triumph over his hated foe once and for all. Ryo didn't mind stacking the deck in his favor... Ryo had a rather comprehensive understanding of human anatomy. He made a decision about just what sort of injury he wanted to inflict. He stole a quick glance about to make sure nobody was watching, then raised his umbrella above Ryouga's prone form. The needle-sharp tip of the umbrella gleamed silver in the moonlight... "Hold it right there!" Ryo whirled in shock towards the voice. He was astonished to see well over a dozen figures emerging from the shadows, cloaked in black, wearing... hard hats? They were adorned with tool boxes and tool belts, but there was not a single clink of metal to be heard. Ryo couldn't believe that he'd been taken unaware by a single person, much less a whole group of them. How long had they been there? His anger began to rise. One of them, a small woman, rushed to Ryouga's side and knelt, tenderly inspecting him for wounds. The rest moved in, surrounding Ryo in an unmistakably threatening fashion. Ryo refused to be intimidated. "I don't know who you people are," he said casually, "but it would be best for your collective health if you took this opportunity to leave the way that you came." "You stay away from him!" the woman hissed. Ryo raised an eyebrow. "This is not your business, whoever you are." His plan was probably ruined with so many potential witnesses, but he refused to be backed down. A man stepped forward from the black-clad crowd. He had a severe face and his eyes burned with an intense fervor. "Normally, we are sworn not to interfere. But tonight, Muhoshin Ryo, we cannot allow this travesty!" They knew his name. A large band of ... whatever they were... gifted with stealth that would make a ninja look like a pregnant hippo, and he didn't even know who they were. This was starting to get on his nerves. "Who," he asked, trying to keep his irritation from showing, "do you people think you are?" "In Nerima," the man said, "there exist two great passions. You are of the tribe that represents the Martial Artists, who travel in the light, who fight the battles. But we are the ones who travel in darkness, never revealed, ever silent. We are the yang to the Martial Artists' yin, we are the balancing force at the other end of the see-saw. Without us, you could not exist. Without you, we could never survive." "What on Earth are you talking about?" The woman tending to Ryouga spoke up. "We are the Nerima Public Works Corps." Ryo blinked in surprise. "Beg your pardon?" "When you Martial Artists battle, when the ground trembles as you modern titans clash, who do you think repairs the damage? When you shatter a wall, demolish a tree, or make a crater in a street, who do you think it is that patches the concrete, plants the seed, or paves over the asphalt?" The man (who Ryo assumed to be their leader) nodded. "That is correct. We are the menders, who come at night and make all things anew." Ryo was slightly taken aback. Until now, it hadn't really occurred to him how the damage that was done in the multitude of Martial Arts fights got mended. He felt rather embarrassed that he had failed to consider this before (he shouldn't have - it's a blind spot that all Nerima Martial Artists have. The same blind spot exists in certain inhabitants of Graviton City, where a similar Public Works Corps also exists). Still, he might well turn this to his advantage... "I see," he said. "Then we owe you a great deal. But I assure you, if you let me continue my work for tonight, life will be considerably easier for you. After all, this..." he gestured at Ryouga, mentally fishing for a suitably vitriolic term, "... this moronic lunatic probably causes more damage to Nerima than all the other Martial Artists combined. If I eliminate him..." "We know that!" the woman snapped. "Of course we know that! Why do you think we love him so?" Ryo blinked. "What?" "Don't you see?" the leader explained. "We live to repair damage! It is our great joy in life. Ever since this... this wonderful, destructive boy came into our lives, we have had the opportunity to practice our skills and techniques like never before." The woman smiled fondly down at the still-sleeping Ryouga. "We have followed him since he first arrived. Oh, we don't interfere directly, but we've helped him in secret ways, when we could. We've left food out for him when he's gotten lost, or hot water when he's needed it, and helped him find his clothes and gear when he's lost them..." Ryo wondered. The others murmured their agreement around Ryo. "He was always great," one commented, "but once he learned that bakusai ten-ketsu technique... well, there's nobody else who can wreak such utter havoc." Ryo narrowed his eyes. "He's not the ONLY one who uses that technique, you know." The woman gave him a cold gaze. "Oh yes, Muhoshin, we know you can do it too. But you don't cause a fraction of the damage that our beloved Ryouga does." "That's right," another said. "You're nothing compared to him." That tore it. There was probably no single phrase which could ignite Ryo's temper as quickly as that one. He didn't care about witnesses now. "Get out of my way," he snapped at the members of the Public Work Corps, brandishing his umbrella, "or I shall be more than willing to give you a piece of what Hibiki has coming to him tonight." The woman leaned protectively over Hibiki. "No! Bad enough that Shampoo is gone! I won't let you take him!" Ryo scoffed. "Madame, I'm sure I don't care about which personal hygienic products you have misplaced. If I have to dispose of you to get to Hibiki... so be it!" He drew back his umbrella, ready knock her out of his path. "Hisoka Electrical Wiring Strike!" Ryo leaped backwards as one of the shadowy figures stepped forth. A spray of electrical wires and cables flew outwards from the man's extended hand, snaking their way towards Ryo like living things. He swiped with his umbrella, knocking the bulk of them aside as he dodged the remainder. "All right," he snarled, "if you insist..." There was an easy way to disperse a crowd of foes. "GOU-RYUGEKI-KEN!" he shouted, spraying down a shower of wild ki blasts towards the assembled crew. Some of them would also assuredly strike Ryouga, but that didn't bother Ryo much... The energy rain pelted the turf, sending up chunks of sod and grass, but the Nerima Public Works Corps were nowhere to be seen. he thought, He looked over to Ryouga to see if the errant blasts had done much damage. To his surprise, it seemed that a brick wall which had been hastily erected between himself and Ryouga had absorbed the attack. "Impressive," he said, "but if you think mere brick can keep me out..." Suddenly, an extremely large and muscular member of the Public Works Corps stood before him (practically materializing out of the shadows in a most disconcerting fashion). "I am Masataro, the steel-bender," he announced. "Think that you can pass me?" The giant reached for Ryo, but he was far too slow to catch the expert Martial Artist. Ryo took a quick swipe at the large man's right knee, not hard enough to break the bone but hard enough to topple him. Masataro dropped to his knees with a grunt of pain. As Ryo drew back for a strike which would render the nuisance unconscious, though, heard a series of rapid clicks and bangs. He turned, and discovered to his astonishment that his arm - umbrella and all - had been trapped in a chaotic tangle of shiny new pipes, protruding from the ground. Another of the Public Works Corps stood beside the pipe prison, twirling a hex-wrench on the end of his finger. "Gokomatsu Special Instant Plumbing Defense," he commented. Ryo growled and energized his free fist with ki energy. He slammed the brass and iron prison with a sweeping blow, tearing free bolts and fittings. With another blow, he wrenched his arm and umbrella free of the twisted trap. The plumber backed away from the enraged Martial Artist with his eyes wide. Ryo took a step forward to deliver a rapid punch, but suddenly discovered that his feet were rooted to the spot. "Hiromasa Ultimate Quick-Drying Cement Technique!" came the explanation. Ryo's legs were encased up to the knees in solid concrete. Ryo's frustration level was on the rise. "Bakusai Ten-Ketsu!" he barked, focusing the breaking-point strike through the tip of his umbrella. The concrete prison exploded. "Two-Fisted Caulking Gun Attack!" another one shouted. Ryo whirled and opened his umbrella like a spinning shield. Twin streams of thick spackle struck the umbrella and sprayed off to either side in a shower of irregular white blobs. "Hammer and Nail Rapid-Fire Technique!" came the call of another Public Worker. Ryo swiveled and ducked under the stream of nails which lanced through the air towards him. He noted, with a certain degree of grudging respect, that the attacker wasn't using a nail gun - she threw handfuls of nails into the air and struck them with her hammer at impressive speeds. The flying nails embedded themselves in a neat row in the wood of a tree behind him. Ryo took a step back, attempting to assess the foes arranged around him, when something took a hold of him and hurtled him into the air. One second he had been standing on solid ground, and the next he was locked in the branches of a cherry tree. Who had thrown him up here...? "Kozakura Instant Cherry Tree Ascension," came the answer. He disentangled himself from the tree and dropped to the ground, in time to see the tree finish the last few inches of its explosive growth. he wondered. The Nerima Public Works Corps had arranged themselves defensively in front of Ryouga once more. Their leader spoke. "As you can see, our Public Works Techniques are every bit as refined as your own combat skills. They must be, if we are to keep pace with you Martial Artists." Ryo sighed. Sometimes, it just didn't pay to let your anger take over. There were over a dozen of these fanatics arrayed before him. Defeating them could take all night, and he had lost the momentum to keep going with such a futile struggle. "So, Hibiki has a crew of secret protectors," he said. "You understand, of course, that I intend to rid the world of that fanged annoyance. If you seek to get in my way..." "We are pledged not to interfere in the clashes between Martial Artists," the leader asserted. Ryo smirked. "Oh? And what would you call this?" The woman who had been hovering over Ryouga answered. "When you switch from being a Martial Artist to an assassin, all bets are off!" "I wasn't going to..." Ryo shrugged. "Never mind. Have it your way. But I intend to bury this cretin, and I intend to do it soon. You lot are entitled to put flowers on his grave when I'm done, but if you interfere in our fight..." He let the threat dangle, unspoken. "We understand," the leader said. "Even if it means losing our beloved Hibiki Ryouga, we shall not interfere." "Very well," Ryo nodded. He felt he had managed to save enough face in this whole sorry encounter to make a dignified departure. "So long, Nerima Public Works Corps. It's been... educational." ------ Ryouga struggled his way back to consciousness shortly after the first rays of dawn had struck his face. He experienced his customary wave of disorientation, uncertain of where he was or how he had ended up sleeping here. Discovering that he was outdoors, on a soft bed of grass, with the morning songs of birds in the air was a pleasant change from some of the surprises to which he'd awakened in the past. He rose to his feet, yawning and stretching. He was somewhat sore from his training, but it was a pleasant sort of soreness that felt almost comforting. For a moment his mind tried to go back to its previous train of thought (i.e., rage towards Ranma), but then his stomach intervened with some pressing demands regarding breakfast. he thought. As he was turning to leave, he almost failed to notice the green apple at his feet. Ryouga picked up the ripe fruit, polished it up with a bandana, and took a bite. He leaned against a cherry tree, surveying the pristine beauty of the park for a moment. Sunlight glittered off the shiny rails of the high-dive platform in the empty pool nearby. Picking what he felt was a likely direction, he began his search for his home once again. As always, he was unaware of the eyes that followed his progress - the gazes of those who stood in the shadow, their hearts full of love and gratitude that he would never know. end. ======================================= Author's Notes: ======================================= The More Things Change/The Pursuit of Happiness, by Rod M., is probably my favorite running Ranma fanfic series. In order for this story to make sense, it is rather essential to have read those writings. This little story fits into the timeframe of The Pursuit of Happiness, shortly before the King of Nerima Martial Arts Tournament. The origin of this story begins with my musings upon who fixes the damage done by local martial artists in the Ranma (and other) anime series. The Nerima Public Works Corps seemed the only logical conclusion. I figured that the only way that any community would put up with the sort of nonsense that goes on in Nerima was if there were a counter-balancing element to the destructive forces in play -- an element which actually enjoyed dealing with the chaos and restoring the damaged property. COPYRIGHT STUFF: All the Ranma characters belong to Takahashi Rumiko. Muhoshin Ryo and the King of Nerima Tournament were created by Rod M. GRT - April 1998 grayson@rigroup.net