Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ In Darkness In Fire ❯ Knight of the Dark ( Chapter 7 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

All had most definitely not ended well, she didn't want to take anyone's life away, never again, it already ate at her conscience, the look on her face as Setsuna's blast caught her, the feeling she received as she watched her own attack inflict the lethal strikes. Tearing into her chest and stomach. She tried in vain to banish that from her mind, tried to push it back and prepare for school, though she did not feel up to attending. It would take too long to convince her mother she was ill, so she trudged to the bathroom, showering only momentarily before dressing and lifting her bag as she left her room. She didn't put her hair up as she usually did, instead gathering the blonde tresses at the nape of her neck. She shambled stoically toward her school, not taking notice of the world around her. Today would not prove a good day, of that, she was sure.
In Darkness In Fire
By: XZeroDisclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 7 - Knight of the Dark
Training was progressing, and through the scrolls, Ranma had learned the techniques of his ancestors, each was powerful, but the techniques are paled by the ferocious precision the very style itself calls for. He could recall vividly how the sword and unarmed styles seemed to move toward these techniques, guiding him toward them. In the dark of the morning, two weeks following his mother's death he'd been training non-stop, he wasn't normally the kind for revenge, but those witches took his mother, murdered her, and he'd repay them that, they'd pay, even if he must damn himself to do it.

Flashback
It was storming that night, and a long kata, one meant to focus the mind before the use of the technique he was attempting. Focus yourself, call upon the power within, focus the energies of your knight's-blood, and envision the lance. See the target, know you will strike true. Inner monologue reminded him of the procedure, he'd read over that passage for hours, days even, until now, when he finally understood. He realized that his ki production had tripled since he began training with his mother, and then, again it had doubled during the moment that he held his mother's lifeless body. Now, this he understood.
His kata halted, he moved swiftly toward the center of the dojo, to face the wooden dummy, one of the many that carried his own semblance. His brow knitted in concentration, though that swiftly disappeared, once, twice, three times did he fail, the energy backlashed within him, striking hard at his very spirit. Struggling to his feet he found himself unable to concentrate any further, and felt that it'd just be stupid to try the same thing again, the words came to him, and with them, he felt that he now truly understood the words of his ancestors. Settling into a horse stance he once again started this time though he listened to the voice of his mind, the one that spoke well, the one that didn't react with insults immediately, one that was ignored for far too long during his stay in Nerima.
Focus yourself, call upon the power within, focus the energies of your knight's-blood
His mind and body were harmonious, he felt the power swelling within, the new and strange energy, so much like normal ki, but more potent, undiluted by self.
Envision the lance.
He saw the concept, and cocked back his fist, opening it into a knife-edge. Letting the energy gather in his arm, envisioning the western lance and gripping the invisible ki construct.
See the target, know you will strike true.
Faith, he must have had it, because as he settled on the wooden training target that was before him, everything clicked, all fell into place. A grin of satisfaction danced across his lips briefly, just long enough to show through the confident fighter that he was, this was his element. His hand shot forward, his right leg moving in union with his arm.
Stomp
"Anei Mori!" His shout pierced the night, waking several people, but what struck him was not their screams of protest, but rather the ghostly violet weapon that shot forward from his fist, piercing the chest of the dummy and continuing through the wall of the dojo. He watched in stunned awe as it finally struck the far wall of the compound and detonated, spewing chips of stone across the street. He peered sheepishly through the hole in the wall, if this was the first of the techniques of this school, than he had much work to do before he could proceed. That had drained him far less than he believed it would, but he nonetheless felt the drain. Perhaps the technique to draw the energy of his environment was an integral part, it had after all been one of the first things he'd been taught. He wasn't a master of it yet though, so he'd have yet a great deal to practice.
End Flashback

That technique had been a pain to learn, but learn and progress in skill with it he had. He'd had other techniques as well, some more powerful than that, but most were merely supportive of the core techniques of the school. They were in no way restrictive, however, the scrolls from which he studied these gave examples and advised on modification, whatever was needed to suit the performer's needs. It was this that truly made this style his own, traits that his improved studies had shown him to be genetic. He guessed, probably accurate, that these were traits of his mother's family. He checked her family's registry, simple research of his lineage, only to find that his family had a long history of invention. Most notably in the areas of war, he found that the earliest record was of a man whose prior lineage had been lost. Most likely an orphan of the war, his name was listed as Kamiya Shinta, taking his wife's last name upon marriage. From there, years of inventors, craftsmen, and politicians littered the registry.
His families history stretched back only two-hundred years, and he wondered at the rest. He wondered what sort of person developed these techniques, when they were invented, things like that. The scrolls were written in an ancient form of Kanji, and were more than slightly yellowed from time, but evens till, what sort of man could develop such a technique.

Flashback
The day was unbearably hot in the wake of the storm that had continued to rage for days, now though the heat made his movements sluggish, though his idea of sluggish was still beyond superhuman. His stamina was a testament to his motions, graceful, and quick. The Shadow Lance was within his grasp, at a moments notice he could discharge it in full control of its power. Now it was time to move on, the next technique would take just as much effort if not more so to control.
Look back upon your past, seek in your mind the wrongs committed against you, against your family, against your blood. Look for the anger of your people, find their fury and grasp it as your own. Use this power, strike now, achieve Vengeance.
He was, as with the Shadow Lance, confused by the meaning of these words, they were written with no real guide to the power, the words following meant nothing, not without the ability to use such a technique. So now he struggled, looking for things that bothered him. He was never a person to hold a grudge, and so had forgiven transgressions quickly, hoping that his tomorrow would be better than the hell he'd lived in every yesterday. His mother was gone, and the artless view of the world he'd held before had dissipated when that thought rose to his mind.
Look back upon your past, seeking your mind the wrongs committed against you, against your family, against your blood.
Ryouga, he was a friend in times of need, sure, but on every day other than those few times he'd helped him, all of his motives were selfish indulgences. His refusal to come to terms with his own choices, his continued slanderous remarks, everything about the other young man's actions and words were a direct insult to him. Sure, he had his redeeming qualities, but they were too few.
Shampoo, a tragic case her. He knew that if she were to return home without him, she would be ostracized by her peers. Forever to be marked a failure. Her society was one of strict laws, and he could not bear the thought of her facing that fate because of his actions. That was no call though for her underhanded tactics. The casual use of arcane potions, items, and things of the like were an insult, something he could not stand. She abused the trust he had given her, and had caused far more troubled than she was worth.
Mousse, another worthless challenger, perhaps the worst. His refusal to use his glasses made him a danger to those around him, regardless of who they might be. A simple case of mistaken identity could lead to an innocent person's death. Perhaps if his attacks had accuracy and justification, maybe then he would see him as a real enemy, but even so, Mousse was willing to take hostages, another facet of his Amazon heritage, another thing that was not acceptable.
Look for the anger of your people, find their fury and grasp it as your own.
Those around him, the regular folk of Nerima were harmed by the presence of those around him. Akane beat those who came at her, but she had her reasons, however, skewed her response was. Ryouga would charge through others to take a shot at him. Mousse would throw his knives casually, even if they missed and struck an innocent. Shampoo, she would attack anyone she felt an obstacle, he'd had to make it clear to her after such an incident that if she did so, he would be forced to hurt her. This was their rage, which fed his own desire.
Use this power!
The energy coalesced within him, traveling as a river of flame toward his fists, gathering there. Power that pulsed and warmed the flesh, leaking from his fists in a visible crimson display.
Strike now!
The gathered energy was becoming too much to handle, it burned in his hands, demanding release. Slowly, for the power within his fists made them heavy, he pulled them toward one another, simultaneously stepping from his horse stance into a classic fighting stance. His fists came together, power arcing between the two. Almost painfully he opened his hands, increasing the flow that threatened to overwhelm.
Achieve Vengeance!
"Adauchi!" He shoved his hands forward, directing the energy toward the wooden training dummy, a newer one, less abused than his last unfortunate training partner, though it too bore his semblance. The power rocketed forth, blazing through the air, to strike the target. He had hoped this one would not damage the dojo too greatly. His hopes disappeared along with the dummy, the crimson stream that pushed forward enveloped the dummy, continuing on in a steady stream of power, one that threatened to bowl him over, he hoped that this strength would run its course soon.
And so it did, the force of the power finally overwhelmed him, and he was shoved backward. The wall shook even as the aura around him disappeared, the beam of crimson vanished, and he was left unconscious, sprawled on the dojo floor.
End Flashback

When he had awakened, Kasumi was tending his injuries, nothing more than a few tenderized ribs, and a mild concussion. He was back to training the next day.
"It's time for the third one, this technique is the only one left before the final technique." He thought to himself aloud, looking down at the yellowed parchment scroll.
Seek within the awesome might, seek within you the will to fight. Find your power, burning, raging, eternal. Frenzy!
The dojo's lights were dimmed, and the ending of day lessened the ambient light of the room, causing long shadows to cast themselves over everything. Ranma focused his strength, focused his mind, seeking the trance-like state that had before granted him access to his newfound power. The cool breeze stilled, though even now his clothes, his hair, everything within the dojo still fluttered with a wind that belonged to him alone.
Seek within the awesome might, seek within you the will to fight.
Since his first day of training, martial arts was the ultimate form of expression for him. With his body he could communicate all the things he could never say. This was his will, his very life was a battle. He was in constant contest with everything around him, even himself at times.
Find your power, burning, raging, eternal.
His power was stemmed not just from training, he knew that now, but from the will to continue fighting, he realized that against Saffron. He knew that he shouldn't have been able to defeat the Phoenix god, he knew that against the Lord of Phoenix Mountain, he was a trifling fighter. But he had persevered, luck, skill, ingenuity, they were his real weapons in that fight.
Frenzy!
"Nenshou Kyoubou!" The world snapped into focus, and an aura of power erupted around him. He came then to an epiphany, here, now, within this dojo, he was invincible. With this thought in mind he began to exert his will, he was faster, stronger, tougher. His classic ki blasts were instantaneous. Everything was perfectly clear. Training in these techniques, was complete.

Minato Ward (Three and ½ weeks after the fateful meeting)
Usagi was still reluctant, but until she could do otherwise, she would continue in her course of action, hoping that things could be resolved. Three weeks, nearly four had passed and still she could not banish from her mind the image of Tokyo in rubble, burning. She could not live with that fate on her conscience, though she knew that if that came to pass, neither she nor he would survive.

Ami too pondered the battle, and hoped to find something within the seemingly endless data within her Mercury computer, she researched the Dark Knights, and came to a conclusion.
"Setsuna's vendetta is going to kill us all." She whispered, having found the data, having found the log of her own predecessor.
I write this now to clear my conscience, hopefully, whoever you are, you are not a member of the conspiracy the senshi of time and the silver queen have been orchestrating. It is my duty, as a defender of the empire to know the goings on, and throughout the years, dissent has been growing among the lower classes. Commoners are becoming poorer, while the nobility of Luna is growing fat and decadent. I have done my best to fix things, but at every turn I am halted.
In the last year refugees from another system have been escaping to our worlds. The Dark Knights last system was destroyed in a conflict, and so they came here, and have been steadily making the planet Vulcan habitable. They are an amazing people, though Pluto seems to be urging the queen to use them as an enemy, to unite the peoples against them. They are to be the scapegoat through which she reclaims her popularity among the masses. May the Gods help us, for we are sure to pay for this.
Princess MercurySenshi of IceAria Frost
To Be Continued...
A/N: Well, I'm in Portola, and on the third day that I sat down at the computer, this entire chapter came to me, I hope to have it uploaded by the end of the day. Consider it a ID4 gift. As standing with tradition, I will give you the translation for the techniques used. Review!