Author's Note: Hey all! My Dad just turned 50 and this is sort of dedicated to him! Even though it is a few months late….I had the song and idea but the inspiration for actually writing it was because of my 'old man's' b-day! Hope you enjoy! I took a break from the WAFF for once in my life! ^.^ R& R if you don't mind!
My old man, you ask? Yeah, I guess you can say he use to be someone.
Back in his day, they said he was the best around this town. Heck, I heard he use to be the best in all Japan. He knocked heads against the worst and came out only stronger. My mom use to put us to bed with the amazing stories about Pop and all he and his crazy friends use to do.
Things like learning cool techniques, which he has taught us all, and all the cruel and insane things Granddad use to make him do. I'm the youngest of the three (all boys) and therefore, hung on to the heroic image of my Pop for the longest.
It's when my older brothers started to hit their teenage years that I started to re-evaluate what I thought about my old man. Before practice, they'd laugh and joke about the 'almighty' martial artist who bowed to every whim of our mother. They fought sometimes but still, they seemed to do whatever the other one wanted with minimal grumbling.
They'd put on a little play act about Pop and one of his stories. Of course the way my brothers told it was far different from the way mom actually told us. Suddenly the opposition wouldn't seem so tall or great and the one playing Pop would usually do something geeky to win---like whine until the 'bad guy' died of boredom or something.
So when I was 16, my brothers were 17 and 19, was it any wonder I happened to do the dumbest thing for a son to do? I had put up with my Pop being mocked by his own flesh and blood for about four years, after all that time, it soaked up into my brain as the truth.
We had been eating dinner, Pop was making a gagging noise and Mom was rolling her eyes at his antics. My second oldest brother was relating the story as to why he was called to the principal's office once again. Apparently he had been in a fight with Kuno.
This, of course, invoked a story of my Pop's earlier days. Mom started up about how he had to kick the living crap out of Kuno's dad---Kuno. Imagine that. And his grandfather and his sister. When Pop decided to correct one or two of the things my Mom said, I snorted.
If this is the only thing I had done, I wouldn't have gotten into trouble. A snort could have been passed off as laughing almost. But words, me and my big mouth, my words got me into a whole mess load of trouble. "Right, Pop. You took on the whole psycho family in one swoop."
He put down his chopsticks, raised a black eyebrow and asked me if I didn't believe him.
Without thinking, which is probably why I said anything, I answered him. "I believe you're full of it."
There wasn't a sound in that room. Not a crunch, not the tapping of chopsticks---nothing. It was as quiet as a tomb.
The only immediate reaction was visible. And man, I wish I didn't see it!
Pop's face turned as red as his old Chinese shirt he use to wear when he was my age.
The dining room fell silent
I can't believe what I just said
I just told my dad he's full of it
And I watched his face turn red
Now, any intelligent person would have back peddled and begged for forgiveness for such a dumb mistake. A slip of the tongue and 'I'm sorry' was all I should have said. But as the youngest, I was always looking for a way to get respect in my brothers' eyes. So when Pop, once again, asked me what I had said, I repeated the same words.
"I-I'm sure he didn't mean it, right?" My mom's eyes glared at me accusingly as she directed her attention to me on the last word.
"I did too mean them!" My voice rose in volume. My brothers were shell shocked. They just stared at me, food half raised to their mouths as their eyes played tennis, switching from me to our old man. "All we have ever heard about was what a great martial artist you use to be. You gotta admit, old man, it's kinda hard to believe." Yes, I was digging my grave.
The expression on my Pop's face went from slightly mad to a calmness. I'd seen this look before. He was livid. Out of all the things you say to my old man, you never, never call him a 'has been'. And yet, here I was, calling him it with every twist of the tongue. I don't know if it hurt him to have his own flesh and blood take pot-shots at his pride, but I truthfully didn't care at that moment.
"Use to be?" He questioned slowly.
"Yeah, use to be." I crossed my arms and smirked at him. "When's the last time you've gone on one of your 'great training exercises' and came back with some awesome technique?" I tapped my chin and pretended to think it over. "I don't ever remember you goin' off like you said you use to and comin' back with some trick."
His hand tightened slightly around the chopsticks. If I wasn't also in training to be a martial artist, I might have not seen it, but I did. I was stoking his anger. Good. Don't ask me why I thought this was good, I just did.
"Toshi," Pop said it carefully. Warning me.
"RAN-ma." Pushing it, pushing it. Pushing myself right of a cliff and right into a big lake of trouble.
"Why don't we see how weak I am then, if that is what you think." Pop smirked. I have his smirk. Mom always says so, that's why my name means 'mirror image'.
"Fine then. But I don't want any dumb practice fight. I want a real one." I stood up quickly. "I challenge you to a fight, old man." I turned towards the back yard, "Now, so I can get back before my dinner gets cold."
"Fine." Pop stood up and lead the way to the back yard.
And I should've said, "I'm sorry"
But I matched him shout for shout
I can still hear that screen door slammin'
The night I called him out…
"Toshi, you idiot!" My eldest brother screamed as I went to the opposite side of the yard, sliding easily into a defensive position. I guess he did have his reasons for thinking that I was being dumb. After all, I'd seen them take this same stance before our Pop and they ended up crawling towards Mom to nurse their wounds five minutes later.
She'd sigh and mutter about how much like our Father we truly were. Now it was my time to put this old man to the test. I had every chance of winning that he did. Sure he had experience on his side but I had youth.
That would make us even without a doubt.
I twisted my hand into a fist, jutted my shoulder forward and pulled my other fist to my stomach. A typical attack position that I'd seen Pops take multiple time in old photos.
His blue eyes narrowed, sizing me up. I don't know why he was even bothering to do that. I mean, he is the one who taught me the most. Mom taught me as well but once she had three of us to look after, she shoved us to Pop whenever she could.
My eyes flicked towards my Mom. Just like when my brothers stood in my spot, she had her hands clasped and this torn expression on her face. I guess it was hard to choose between your husband and your son. She didn't need to look so sad, I wasn't going to beat him up that hard. I just wanted to prove I was man enough to take him on and walk away triumphant.
When I looked back at the old man, his eyes were expressionless.
A warning bell rung crisp and clear in my brain. Pops was serious. Good. Then I wouldn't have to go easy on him. Saotome men are notoriously thick headed and I was living proof of that fact.
"I'll make you an offer," he said calmly. "You can walk away right and I'll forget this." He motioned between us.
I sputtered in response. My Pop---stepping down from a challenge? He was going to let his opponent go? I knew he wasn't the hero of Mom's tales! I just knew it! He was a weak coward who knew the art but never had enough guts to put into practice!
"No way! First rule of play is honor!" I shouted back. Pulling my smirk into a set frown.
No way was I going to miss an opportunity like this! He was so toast.
"Anytime you're ready." I pressed. Pops, for the most part, only looked back toward the house but otherwise didn't move except to breathe. He still preferred the Chinese style wardrobe to a gi or any other normal fashionable clothing but I still knew he wasn't weak.
I had trained under this man since I can remember. Now it was my turn to let him see what I was capable of doing. To prove myself as a martial artist!
…Fist to fist and eye to eye
Standin' toe to toe
He would've let me walk away
But I just would not let it go
Every stinking thing I can remember about my life with my dad had us on a training journey or pitted brother against brother. The Art was his life! He had imprinted it on us like a oddly fitting scar. There was no way for us, my brothers or me, to ever scrub off the effects of the training with him. It was soaked in our blood thoroughly.
For the longest time I had fought to show I was worthy of training. I was the strongest, without a doubt, but it didn't do a lot of good if you didn't have speed. A few years ago Pops taught me the 'Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire' Technique, it improved my confidence in my speed amazingly well.
"What do you fight for?" I can still hear that bleeding question echoing through my mind. Since I threw my first punch in his direction so long ago, he started to ask about what my fighting was for. Since I didn't know any other reason I always replied 'for myself' and he'd say that I was never going to improve with that type of attitude.
Finally, the old man went into a battle stance.
This was the true test. I felt nervous and my adrenaline ebbed long enough for a small doubt to creep up in my mind. My brothers, who were better than me by their accounts, couldn't stand up to him--did I really have a chance?
His foot barely moved and my focus and ego snapped back to attention. Of course I could beat him! Every trick he knew, he had taught us! Some of our 'aunts' and 'uncles' even came by occasionally to show us what they had learned about Pops attacks.
The greatest power anyone can have is knowledge, right?
I was fighting for me, to prove to him I could fight.
But that sneaky doubt came back when Mom's voice called out to Pop. "Please, Ranma, don't break anything. I don't feel like going to the emergency room right now."
That put a ton of confidence in me! Sheesh! Not to mention the first aid kit seemingly appeared out of nowhere. I guess she knew that her husband was frail and would come out pretty bloody and beaten up. Even despite what she just said a few seconds ago.
"Trust us, Toshi! Back out!"
"From a man-to-man fight?" I growled. "No way!"
"Dummy." My oldest brother sighed out. "You'll get the sense beat into you then!"
"You won't win, Toshi." Pop's voice reminded me coolly. "You don't have anything to fight for."
My back stiffened. What I wouldn't give for a kitten to throw at this egotistical maniac at this moment!
"We'll see about that, old man."
Then he smirked!
And those pesky bells of warning started to sound again, even more urgently.
I ignored them all, family and annoying bells. I was going to make this old man pay.
Years of my frustration
Had let me to this night
Now he'll pay for all the times that he's been right
Without a single word, I launched my attack, half way to my old man I jumped into the air. My intended air kick attacked was void as he simply seemed to disappear. Landing, I twisted around, itching to get a good hit and soon.
He was standing behind me! I barely saw him move! How'd he--?
I shook my head in an attempt to clear away the thoughts. You think too much you mess up and get hurt. So, thoughtlessly I swung a round house kick in his direction.
And he didn't seemed phased as he bent back as the kick went a few inches above his face. I tried repeatedly to hit the man. He ducked, flipped and otherwise dodged every single attack I threw at him. True, I was using basic maneuvers but it was because I was going to go on easy on him. But if he wanted to play hard ball, then I was just as much Saotome as he is!
I started the fancy moves.
They took a ton of energy and required serious focus but they, too, proved futile. What was the point of trying to get a challenger who taught you all the moves you knew? I guess I should have been innovative.
"Why." Kick. "Don't." Punch. "You." Flip. "Attack!?" I screamed, pulling tightly into another defense position.
Pops landed easily on his feet from a back flip and studied me quietly. After a few seconds, he crossed his arms behind his head and that damnable smirk stayed on his face. "Why should I? At the rate you're goin', you'll be out of breath soon enough." He shrugged. "No need to waste my energies on attacking you when you're killing your chances of winning."
I saw red.
Dumb me leapt right into a suicide attack towards the older man. He, of course, barely blinked and dodged. I ended up eating a mouthful of grass and dirt as I came to a landing.
"Ready to quit?" He asked in a serious tone. "This is gonna only hurt me in the long run."
I pushed myself from the ground, whipped my head around and glared at the man over my shoulder. "No! I won't give! You said yourself that it's only going to be you hurt!" Clambering to my feet, I saw something cross in his eyes. Spitting out the bits of earth that I could, once again I waited for him to attack.
"Ranma," Mom pleaded once again.
Pops cast her a quick glance. An opening! I attacked with another quick kick.
This one was going to be my winning blow!
He said, "Son it's gonna hurt me more than it hurts you"
But somehow I couldn't help but have my doubts
'Cause I'd seen my older brothers crawl back in the house
Each time they called the old man out
It didn't even touch him.
My foot and leg sailed past his waist, my target, and before I could flip, fall or block he pulled back his fist and with a solid crack from my nose, I went flying backwards.
I landed in a lump against our back porch where my bothers and mother were still watching. My brothers ticked their tongues at me in disapproval.
Trying to stand up, to fight, I found out I couldn't. Not only had that punch done something lethal to my nose, it also knocked the breathe out of me. I could barely fill my lungs up quick enough, much less hop on my feet and start fighting.
The old man was far more stronger than I had ever realized. My mom, I thought she'd run to me, was glued to Pop's side instead.
My brothers, still calling me an 'idiot' and 'dummy', aided me to my feet. Slouched on the back porch I observed my parents as I whipped the blood from the corner of my mouth as it trickled from my nose in a crimson trail.
I couldn't hear what Mom was saying due to the thrumming of my heartbeat in my ears but Pop nodded and kept his back to me.
Man, I guess I really was a failure to the family. Pop was too ashamed to look upon his loser son. Hurt him my throbbing nose! I was the one in pain as the male wanna-be nurses (my brothers) started to attempt to aid me. One nearly punched my nose because I was squirming as they held my ponytail harshly in order to have me look up.
"Can you boys handle him?" Mom asked, touching my forehead gently. At least she wasn't disgraced or was and was hiding it very well. "I have to go talk to---"
"It's okay, 'kane." Pop cut in. "I'm going to bed." With that he came to the house, jumped on the back porch and while he was passing, he spared me a glance.
No sort of training could have ever prepared me for what I saw.
My old man had never in the entire history of my short sixteen years had ever cried. Never! And yet I saw them forming at the base of his eyes. My own vision was blurred and he was walking rather fast so perhaps I was mistaken. But the damage was already done to me.
Whatever I felt from the pain of his punch couldn't prepare me for this type of pain.
It was over in a minute
That's when I realized
The blood came from my mouth and nose
But the tears came from his eyes
A week later I was still mulling over the events which lead up to that hasty and, let's face it, remarkably dumb course of action. Even as I was steadily going through my katas for warm up in the familiar walls of the dojo, my mind was still whirling with from that night.
Pop hadn't been able to look me in the eyes since then. Maybe it was because I wasn't able to look him in the eye, probably also helped that I was dodging him from the time I got up till the time I went to bed. Mom asked me why I was walking on pins and needles around him and I calmly said I just felt like I was walking on thin ice.
"Boys." Was her only reply before throwing her hands up in the air and muttering into the kitchen about needing a daughter.
I smiled at that memory. Even though she constantly complained about wishing she had had a girl (along with us) she was grateful that at least I grew out my hair. Women are a mystery because although Mom loves to force me to play 'hair dress up' with her, she wears her own dark hair short.
Then I remembered I had my Pop's hair and that brought about the fight from a week ago to mind. I was never going to escape it!
"Toshi." The one word had me nearly jumping out of my skin and onto the ceiling. It was a surprise and since it was coming from my old man who was now in the dojo, it was like a double surprise whammy.
"P-pop." Great! Good way to prove I'm a man! Stutter like that American TV pig.
"How's the nose?" As if I didn't do it a million times a day, I reached up and gingerly touched my lightly bandaged nose.
"Uncle says it will heal quickly."
He nodded then started his own warm up. My brain wasn't about to do something as dumb as challenge him again in this lifetime. Perhaps when he was confined to a walker and put in a nursing home then maybe I would consider it.
Half an hour of sweaty silence, I decided to speak up. "Pop, can I ask you something?"
"Sure." He kicked higher than I was currently able to and a pang of jealously stabbed my pride.
"Why do you keep asking what I'm fighting for?" He stopped in mid punch thrust to turn to me with slightly shocked eyes. "I mean," I grabbed the end of my ponytail and tugged on it. "You always ask me that but you never tell me the real answer."
He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "When I met you mom, I was just about as good as you. Though you have your mother's strength, but not the mallet thank Buddha." I was going to question him about that comment but he continued his tale before I was able to. "Due to all the havoc always occurring in our lives, I learned to be better than the best. I became unbeatable."
A minute ticked by. "What's that got to do with anything?"
He smirked. "I fought for someone else, not myself." Scratching the end of his nose, "of course she was strong as a mule, twice as stubborn and was 100 percent tombo---OW!"
Mom appeared out of no where and connected a wooden tray to the back of Pop's head. "Well ex-cuse ME for not being all girly back then!"
"Back then? You aren't 'girly' now!"
I smiled as he dodged Mom's tray attacks. Sometimes they were so weird.
Pop left, via mallet mail, Mom's mood automatically switched as she smiled at me. "Ignore him." She said sweetly. I still backed up at the tone in her voice.
I laid down on the floor, arms crossed behind me head. "Mom, was Pops cryin' after he hit me?"
She stiffened. "Toshi," Mom sighed. "You have to understand, as a martial artist, your Father has his honor to consider." Well, duh. I always knew that because it was another life lesson he weaved into our brains at an early age. "He won't back down from a fight, no matter how much it hurts him to participate in it."
After she'd gone and my brothers came to practice (again) I left the dojo. It hurt the old man to fight? Arthritis or because he had to fight his own kids?
Making my way to the bath, I decided to grab a rice cake from the kitchen but when I raised the divider I backed up slowly. I didn't want to interrupt the private moment unfolding in the kitchen. Pop was holding Mom just as tightly as she was holding him. I said I didn't want to interrupt, didn't mean I wasn't curious. My parents being all lovey-dovey never happens in public so any proof that they didn't hate each other was always amazing.
I smiled and forgot the rice cake.
I wonder how long it took Pops to find his reason to fight..?
And in memory of that fateful night
I know the greatest pain was his,
And I just pray some day I'm half the man he is
…Just like my older brothers I crawled back in the house
The night I called the old man out.