Maiden's Fist: A Romance Of Ghosts free porn video

Maiden's Fist: A romance of Ghosts By Phillip DesJardins Chapter One: Waking and Breaking As the sun rises over Tokyo the sky is clear, promising a slow and hot day. Already the city is alive with the sounds of those who do not wait for sunrise to begin their business: Salary men boarding trains to work, postmen delivering mail, and the occasional criminal mugging people in an alley. However, let us turn away from the city itself to one of the suburbs. Here are orderly rows of houses, a mixture of modern and traditional architectural styles, a sense of calm and peace compared to the noise and smell of Tokyo. In the middle of this, however, is a most unusual structure: an old castle, well kept but nevertheless managing to radiate the sort of dignity available to any structure hundreds of years old. This is the Fujishima household. And in his room Fujishima Kenji is trying to sleep in, as he does every week. And as happens every week, he fails. "C'mon Kenji, the suns' already up! You've got no cause lazing off when there's training to be had!" With this the speaker grabs Kenji by the feet, pulling him out of his bed and onto the floor with a crash. Blearily Kenji looks up at his father, Jiro. He is a short man whose gut gravity had made claim to a long time ago, and whose hawkish features Kenji had always found himself thankful he'd had the luck not to inherit. "Is it too much to ask for you to let me sleep in just once, Dad?" Jiro's brow wrinkles momentarily. "Sleep in? What are you talking about? I told you the sun's up didn't I? That's plenty of sleep. Now get dressed and meet me in the training hall." With that he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him. Kenji sits up, rubbing his eyes. He takes a look at his alarm clock. (7:15. He did let me sleep in. Yay me.) He opens up his closet, pausing only momentarily to decide what to wear. He yawns loudly as he puts on the black trousers, scratches himself while pulling the long-sleeved black shirt over his head, and by this time he is more or less awake. Next come the thin black slippers and gloves. Standing, he takes a look at himself in the mirror: lithe but athletic build favored by tight black cloth, features soft and pleasant without being effeminate, warm brown eyes which girls had always said were his best feature, not that he knew that. He pulls back his longish black hair into a serviceable ponytail and then puts on the final touch: a black cloth mask that renders all but his eyes and mouth hidden. (Well, he muses as he leaves his bedroom, maybe today's my day.) Kenji walks softly through the halls, relishing the calm and quiet early this morning. As he turns a corner he pauses, examining the hallway carefully. At a glance, it's no different from the others: beige wood flooring and walls made to resemble traditional Japanese paper walls. He narrows his eyes ever so slightly and then dashes through the hallway at a rapid pace, feet landing in a pattern reminiscent of a hopscotch game. (That could have used some work, pops.) Behind him a series of faint thuds can be heard, as of objects sharp and metal embedding themselves into wood. Unperturbed, Kenji continues tracing the familiar path. (Past aunt Kimiko's room, down the next set of stairs, over the tripwire...) Here he leaps, leaving a potentially fatal deadfall neglected... (Left at the next intersection, then... well this is new.) Indeed, right before the door into the training hall the flooring has apparently been ripped out for about eight feet, flush against the open door. Laid lazily across the gap is a plank of wood not three inches wide slick with grease. Where flooring should be is instead a large hole; Kenji looks down to inspect it and whistles in appreciation. (Boxes. Lots of them. They might break my fall or they might just break. Nice one, dad.) Grinning, he walks up to the plank and delicately places one foot on it; it wobbles gently. He looks up; the ceiling, of course, is free of any handholds that he might otherwise cling to, likewise the walls. Well, no two ways about it, then. He immediately charges over the plank, moving with preternatural speed and grace even as his footing slips underneath him and the plank wobbles and shifts. Not graceful enough, unfortunately. As he passes the halfway mark the plank breaks neatly in two with a satisfying snapping noise, leaving him plummeting. (He sawed the board. I knew I'd forgotten something.) Not wasting time, Kenji kicks off of the now useless platform and uses the momentum to leap through the door. He recovers quickly, then takes a moment to look around and see if any changes have been made to the dojo. None have. The second largest room in the entire castle, it has always been a functional one, stark in purpose and aesthetics alike. The only thing that graces the walls are a few weapon racks evenly spaced throughout for the advanced students. Waiting for him in the middle of the room is his father, now dressed like his son save that he wears no mask. "Glad you could make it, son. Good work making it past the new addition. A bit sloppy, but good." Kenji nods, walking towards his father until he is standing a few feet away, directly opposite him. He maintains eye contact, looking for the faintest flicker, the first warning. "Yeah. The boxes were a nice touch, by the way. What's inside of 'em?" His father smiles enigmatically. "That's a secret you'll have to learn the hard way. Now, if you're ready to begin, I'd like you to come at me." "Huh?" Jiro shakes his head, rolling his eyes skyward. "You heard me, boy. Attack me! I want to give you a chance this time." Kenji nods uncertainly. (It's gotta be some kinda trick. Well, only one way to find out.) "Okay, here I come!" With that he charges at his father, leaping into the air to plant a kick in his chest. His father simply stands there grinning, waiting for the attack. An attack that never comes as Kenji goes sailing over his father's right shoulder, crashing into the dojo wall and landing with a thud. Jiro sighs. "Sloppy boy. You've been slacking off on training again, haven't you?" He turns to face his son in a ready stance. "At your pace." (Like hell I've been slacking off.) Kenji stands, shifting into ready position. Cautiously he moves forward, eyes alert for any move on his father's part. He closes in, considering how to open the offensive, when his father leaps at him. "Too slow!" (Stupid, shoulda seen that coming.) Kenji barely dodges to the side in time to avoid the kick. He turns to face his father, only to be met with a vicious punch to the gut before his guard is up. Stunned, he is knocked back by the attack. (Think quickly, Kenji.) He is pummeled repeatedly by a combination of punches and kicks, blocks bypassed, parries ignored, feints and counterattacks defended effortlessly. Within seconds he is knocked to the ground, his father standing over him with an almost palpable aura of smugness. "Far too sloppy, son. Strike first, strike hard, and strike without warning. This is the proud tradition that had made the Fujishima clan great throughout history." (Oh great, here we go again.) Wordlessly Kenji attempts to catch his breath while his father continues the now quite familiar lecture. "Why, there was a time once when the mere mention of our name struck fear into the Shogunate. In those days, we were in every shadow, the unstoppable specter of death. By our hand houses crumbled and mighty warriors were laid low. Of course," he amended quickly, "we don't do that sort of thing anymore. But this too is a sign of our strength. In modern times, when true ninjitsu is all but dead, we manage to survive, to grow, to be great. And how do we do this?" Without thinking, Kenji tiredly finishes the quote for him. "Striking first, striking hard, striking wi-OOPH!" His father removes his foot from Kenji's abdomen. "I think you're in need of some remedial training, son. Why don't you go clean the family shrine while I think of some new exercises for you." (And of course no Sunday would be complete without this. Joy.) Kenji stands up, bowing perfunctorily. "Yes, father," and walks out of the room. (Babbling old goat. Where does he get off being so high n' mighty? He doesn't know a thing about real ninjitsu aside from hitting things. Now mom's a whole 'nother case. If she'd given that speech it'd be one thing. Never seen anyone who could sneak, fight, climb or hide like mom can.) Silently steaming he walks down another flight of stairs into the only room in the house larger than the dojo itself: the Fujishima family shrine, easily as large as any movie theater. The room is cold and dark; the only lighting comes from candles by the east wall, and they exist only to illuminate the shrine itself. The shrine itself is a huge wooden cabinet with many nooks in it. Inside each nook is a photo or painting or the occasional urn of the given family member, some as many as seven hundred years old, and a bell. Next to the shrine are a wheeled ladder and a feather duster. Kenji is quite familiar with both. Despite his best efforts, the shrine is covered with a thick patina of dust. Still grumbling to himself Kenji grabs the duster and wheels the ladder over, beginning to dust the nooks. "Hi aunt Haruka," he says to one painting. "Heya Kotano, back again just like last week." he says to another. He grins ruefully to himself. "I was kinda hoping to avoid it, to be honest." He works diligently, alternately greeting one ancestor or another and thinking of ways to get back at his father. "So I was thinking I'd cover him in bacon grease, tie him up and leave him hanging over our neighbor's house. Miss Ijiwara, the one with the dogs. What do you guys think?" And now he comes to an urn he's gotten to know quite well. "I don't know how you manage to get so dirty, Yuriko." Indeed, this urn is quite filthy and always was when he came each week, no matter how thorough his cleaning. He begins dusting it again, but this time the dust hangs in the air as a cloying haze. Kenji sneezes, accidentally dropping the duster to the floor. "Aw man..." He barely manages to grab the nook before a second sneezing fit grips him and causes him to kick the ladder out from under him. "Right. This just isn't my day, is it Yuriko?" "Yuriko?" Crash. Dreading what he'll see, Kenji looks down in horror at the pottery shards and ashes strewn on the ground, all that remains of the broken urn. (If anyone sees this I'm a dead man.) Quickly he drops to the ground, frantically looking for a way to hide the evidence when a voice interrupts him. "It's a nice plan honey, but it could use some work." Looking up he sees a teenage girl roughly his own age. She is small and slight; Kenji guesses her to be about half a head shorter than he, and he's not a tall man. Her hair is long, jet black and shiny, held up by a pair of wooden combs. Her features are pixyish, with a knob of a nose and small mouth combining with sparkling blue eyes to lend her a cute quality at odds with the formal blue and green kimono she wears. But however attractive he may think she is, this isn't what catches his attention, what grabs his senses by the proverbial horns. No, this honor goes to the fact that she is transparent, dust motes visible through her, and floating a good foot off the ground. Chapter Two: Conversations and deals The apparition looks Kenji up and down speculatively. "Mind if I saw you without the mask, honey?" (All right, there any ninja transparency secrets I know about?) Kenji looks about the room, before he calls out, "All right Ozaki, I don't know how you did it but it's really impressive. Cut it out." Silence. The apparition taps her foot on thin air impatiently. "So am I going to get to see your face or not? This is no way to treat your ancestors." Kenji looks to her. "You can't fool me. I know you're some kind of trick." She smiles brightly, floating around him in a circle. "I'm afraid you're wrong about that, Kenji. So can I please see you without the mask?" Warily Kenji removes the mask and she sighs with pleasure. "I thought as such. You got Kyoko's cheekbones. So," she says, straightening up in front of him. "Let's talk. I bet you want to know all about your dear great-great-great- great-great-great-great- great..." She pauses, counting on her fingers for a moment or two. "Well, just call me auntie, okay? I don't want to stand on formality, it's depressing. Anyway, I bet you're dying to know all about me." "Look, no offense or anything, but I'm not falling for it. Whoever you are, you put a lot of effort into this joke, but it's not going to work." Frowning, she reaches out with one hand and calmly pushes it through his chest. He feels a faint chill as she withdraws the hand. "Happy now?" Kenji stares at her for a moment, mouth agape, then recovers. "Right. No joke. One of my ancestors is standing right in front of me. What've I done recently to deserve..." Wildly his eyes shift to the broken urn on the floor. (Auntie?) He kowtows to her, forehead touching the floor. "I'm sorry Yuriko! I never meant to disrespect you in such a manner! I swear that I shall fix your urn so that you can rest undisturbed!" She giggles, "Don't worry about it, silly. Actually, I've been hoping for weeks now that you'd break that stupid thing. But if it makes you feel better..." She gestures and the ashes float in the air for a moment, a cyclone in miniature coalescing to a point. The shattered pottery dances into life, joining and connecting like a jigsaw puzzle around the ashes. In a matter of moments the urn is whole once more, down on the ground. Kenji blinks, still kneeling. "Waitaminute. You wanted me to break it?" Yuriko nods, "So you can catch on. Good. Yes, I did want you to break it. I was stuck inside of it and that was the only way I could get out." She smiles warmly, then continues. "Here, let me explain things a little more. I've been in there for a while now. A good long while. "It hasn't been fun, believe me. It got better when I heard you. I've heard other people before, but you were the first time I'd heard any one person consistently." She smiles sympathetically. "You've had a pretty rough go at it, sweetie. You know that?" Kenji eyes her for a moment, then slowly sets the ladder back up against the shrine, climbs back up and continues dusting. "What are you talking about? I mean yeah, my dad's a grade- A jerk an' all, but it's not like there's anything else going sour." "So what do you do?" "Well, I'm in high school. It's okay, I guess. When I'm not dealing with that I practice. I want to beat dad some day so he'll start treating me with respect." Yuriko shakes her head. "That's not what I meant. What do you do for fun? Do you have any friends you spend time with?" A brief pause in dusting, lasting only a moment before he starts again. "Not really. I don't have the time to spare." "Did you know of all the times you've been down here to clean up I've never once heard you talk about any girls you're interested in?" "Well, I don't really have any time..." Yuriko grumbles in frustration. "Of course you don't, dummy! You don't have a life!" Kenji cringes for a moment, then shoots back. "What are you talking about? I mean there's... and I've got my... I do too have a life!" Yuriko floats over behind him, patting him on the back with a hand that weighs as much as a whisper. "No honey, you've got ninjitsu. And from what I've heard you're not even good at that." Kenji shakes his head, dusting off a portrait of Fujishima Shu, his great uncle. He's never met the man. (I wonder if he's listening too?) "I'm plenty good. I could climb a wet glass wall. I've snuck past cops and guard dogs alike at corporate headquarters. I know disguise backwards, forwards and at least once as a panda." He pauses. "What I don't know is fighting. I don't know why, either: I've just never been any good at it. And dad's got no respect for anything else. As far as he cares it ain't ninjitsu unless someone's gettin' kicked in the teeth." Yuriko nods lightly. "Sounds rough. Actually, I had a lot of the same problems. I wasn't any good at ninjitsu either. Well, the fighting part." "What did you do about it, then?" Yuriko smiles again, teeth glinting like pearls. "Well, I found myself another art." Kenji blinks. "Just that? I don't get it." Yuriko sighs impatiently. "Have you ever considered that you just aren't cut out for ninjitsu?" He opens his mouth to protest but cuts him off. "Just hear me out. I did, and I went looking for something else instead. Something I was good at, something I could enjoy." She pauses, putting a finger to her lips. "Something I could teach you, if you really wanted me to. It's not for everyone, mind you. Would you like to learn about it?" (Ha! Hear that, dad? You better watch out, 'cause you're going down!) "Of course I would! If it means I can finally beat dad I'll do anything!" Yuriko floats up and makes another orbit around him. "Wonderful! So how about we make a deal, then?" Kenji sets down the duster. "A deal?" Yuriko sinks back towards the ground. "Well, I'd like to help you out. I am your ancestor, after all. It's what we do, and you've been good about keeping this place clean. On the other hand, I've got a problem." "You mean aside from being dead an' all?" Yuriko giggles. "Silly." She points down towards the urn, and for the first time Kenji can see a faint blue line connecting her to it. "The reason I've been in here for so long is that I'm bound to the urn. I'm not really sure why, but until you broke it I couldn't leave the thing. And even now I can't go that far from it, thanks to this." She points to the line. "It's a spirit anchor. It's what keeps me from leaving this plane of existence, but I can't go that far from whatever it's attached to." "What's that got to do with me?" "Well, isn't it obvious? I just have to be anchored to something. I can shift the anchor, provided whatever I shift it to is willing. If you let me, I could be a guardian spirit for you. I could show you my art." Kenji narrows his eyes. "Sounds like a nice deal. What else do you want out of it?" Yuriko smiles shyly, twiddling her fingers. "Well..." Kenji nods, "Yeah?" "...Nevermind. Forget it." "No, it's cool. Just tell me." Yuriko blushes faintly, "Well, it's just that it's been so dull, stuck in there for so long. I was wondering if maybe I could have... more direct access to your body sometimes. I miss being able to touch things." "More direct access? You mean like possessing me?" Kenji pauses for a moment. "I dunno about that. How can I be sure you're not gonna cheat on the deal or run off and leave me bodiless or something?" Yuriko looks up at him, hurt apparent in her eyes. "Kenji, I want to help you. I mean it." "I didn't mean it like that, really! I just thought it might be better if I knew more about you before I agreed to any deals like that. My body's important to me, after all." Yuriko shakes her head, smiling faintly. "Fair enough. Would it help if I told you about myself?" Kenji nods slightly. "That'd be a good start, yeah." "Okay then." She clears her throat, or at least the memory of her throat, and begins: "I was born some time ago. I'm not really sure how long; it's not like I had a calendar in there with me. I died at the age of fifteen, if that helps you any. Back then the Fujishima clan was fairly big news, definitely more important than I've heard you talk about today. Daddy had been adopted into the Fujishima clan through marriage and was, shall we say, not too happy about the fact that his first child was a daughter. "Anyway, I grew up in more or less the same situation you did: surrounded by other members of the clan, starting training at the age of six. I learned quickly that ninjitsu just wasn't in my future. The whole killing people thing didn't seem at all appealing to me. Fortunately by the time I was eight they'd had another kid, so it wasn't quite as big a deal that I wasn't interested in going along with the family hobby. On the other hand, I had seen potential in a variation on the family style, something that I could actually get into and maybe even be good at, if I had enough time to figure out all the details. So when I turned thirteen I asked my parents for permission to study an art outside the Fujishima style and they reluctantly agreed. Things were looking pretty good. That's when I got sick. "Back then we had a lot of problems with plagues. The winters were usually really bad times, and I wound up catching it shortly after I began my studies. Pretty soon I wasn't in any condition to practice. I lived for about two years after that. It wasn't fun." She pauses and Kenji bows his head in sympathy. (Jeese. Talk about having it rough. Maybe I should help her out here. Nobody deserves a deal that bad.) Kenji pauses a moment. "I'm really sorry to hear that. But how'd you get stuck in the urn?" Yuriko scratches her chin. "Well..." She shrugs. "I'm not really sure. I think it's one of those unfulfilled desire things. So that's the story. Help any?" Kenji nods before speaking quietly. "Yeah. I'm really sorry to hear you had it so rough. I'd like to help you, and I'd love to learn this art of yours. I'm not so sure about this 'sharing my body' thing, though." Yuriko smiles softly. "Kenji honey, I understand how you feel. I know what it's like to have my body taken from me, after all." She laughs lightly, "But seriously, I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, and I promise that I won't run off with your body or anything. I can't anyway. On the other hand, I can help you get out of this rut you're in, and I will do that much if you let me." She winks. "So here's the deal: You accept yourself as my new tether, allowing me to stay in this world, and, from time to time, I receive access to your body. In return, I will help you in all ways I can, and teach you everything there is to know about my art. Sound fair to you?" (Man, I don't know about this. Can I really trust her?) Kenji smiles to himself. On the other hand, I guess she's right. What've I got to lose? He nods, holding out his hand. "Okay, you've got a deal." Yuriko grins wildly, pumping a fist in the air excitedly. "Yes! I wasn't sure if you'd go for it or not! Thanks!" With that she gleefully leaps into the air, growing more insubstantial and diffuse until nothing remains but a faint blue mist. The mist enters Kenji's mouth and darkness overcomes him. Chapter Three: The Morning After Kenji sits in class, row upon row of faceless students in the desks around him. A nameless teacher drones on about the life of a Heian era noble. "This will be on the test, and if you fail the logs will hunt you down." Looking down at his notes Kenji realizes in horror that he's been drawing his classmates in various states of undress throughout the class period, and what few notes he has are written in illegible English. He tries to erase the pictures so he can write down what the teacher has on the blackboard but they grab his pencil, leaving him in a tug of war with his notebook. "Kenji!" The teacher snaps. "If you can't control your drawings you should leave them at home." Students rise from their desks and crowd around him to see his work. "Not bad, Kenji." "I always knew you were a pervert." "My legs are longer than that." "Do you think we get waffles today?" Now his classmates surround him, vague grayness where their faces should be but staring at him nonetheless. He leaps into the air, thick and resistant like jelly, legs thrashing and kicking to keep him propelled upwards. His classmates start laughing and too late he remembers he had to borrow his sister's uniform and everyone can see up his skirt. His mother stands in the doorway of the classroom, miles away, shaking her head at his shameless behavior. "You need to control yourself, young lady." Her admonishing tone and the laughter of his classmates merges into a dull metallic sound, slowly resolving... And Kenji sits up in his bed, rubbing his eyes blearily. He gropes about for a moment and shuts off his alarm clock on its stand. (Weird dream. Maybe it was one a' them Froadian things.) He stretches, yawns, scratches himself, then pauses, an unfamiliar sensation having brought itself to his attention. Something soft. He looks down and notes in a sleepy, disconnected fashion that he is wearing a pale green nightgown of a soft, silky material. (Weird. Where the heck did... Yuriko!) He snaps his head up, fully awake, but no one else is in his room at the moment. He leaps out of bed. "Yuriko?" No response. He looks under his bed, a graveyard of comics, dust and snack food wrappers, but apparently devoid of disembodied spirits. (Not under the bed, then. Maybe she's back in the shrine or somethin'.) He pulls off the nightgown, tossing it in his clothes hamper in the corner of the room and walks over to his closet to get dressed and begin another day. In his closet Kenji keeps precisely six outfits. Three are school uniforms: Navy blue blazers with matching slacks and white long-sleeved shirts, worn during the day and washed in a rotating cycle so none of them smell bad The other three are what is regarded as the traditional ninja uniform in black, for use around the home or when out practicing. All told, these take up maybe a fourth of his closet space. These have been pushed off to the far side on their hangers in favor of several new additions: wide assortments of skirts, blouses and dresses now fill the closet space, leaving no room on the rack. Some are fairly plain, a few are quite fancy, but the majority is quite feminine. Kenji pauses, breathing slowly for a moment, counting to ten. "Yuriko is going to pay for this." Behind him Kenji hears a sound that could only be described as shimmering. "Actually I already did." He turns around and sees Yuriko standing right behind him in all her transparent glory. She appears to have traded in her kimono for a more modern schoolgirl look: a navy blue blazer over a white blouse, a short red tie and a knee- length pleated skirt to match the jacket. She smiles brightly, twirling. "I saw a lot of girls wearing this so I thought I'd see how it looks. Isn't it great?" "Yeah, cute. Funny, that's what I wanted to talk about." Kenji points to his closet, still open. "Mind explaining this?" Yuriko blushes faintly, looking down. "Well, I was hoping to surprise you, really. After you agreed to the deal I decided to go out and see how the city looks today." She twiddles her fingers absently. "Edo's changed a lot since I was alive. Wait, it's Tokyo now. Anyway, I was wandering around and taking in the sights when I found something called the Ginza." Kenji stares at her, the expression of a man who knows how the story ends but wants to go through the motions anyway. "As in the shopping strip." Yuriko flashes him another grin. "That one! Anyway, I thought I'd look around a bit and see what was there, and... well, I found some things that caught my eye." "And so you bought all of them." Yuriko shakes her head, giggling. "Oh heavens no." Kenji sighs in relief. "Good." "I ran out of money long before then." Kenji double-takes, then looks over at his nightstand, on which is his wallet. He walks over to it and opens it up. It is, indeed, empty. (Show respect to your ancestors, Kenji. They work in strange ways.) "Yuriko?" he says, his voice touched with the slight tenor of controlled aggravation. "I was kinda saving that." Yuriko bows slightly. "Sorry about that. It's a good thing I did buy them, though. No offense, but your wardrobe is... well... limited." "...I don't know if you realized this or not, but that's all women's clothing." Yuriko nods. "I know that." "Yuriko? I'm a guy. I don't wear women's clothing." Yuriko smiles, floating towards him and orbiting slowly. "Oh don't worry about it. The sales lady thought you looked very cute. You've got great legs, you know." (Respect ancestors. Respect ancestors.) "Why'd you buy so much? I don't think I'm gonna wear 'em and I we agreed you were only going to be using my body once in a while." Yuriko blinks, looking at him in surprise. "Oh! Didn't I tell you before? You're going to be needing them." "Needing them?" He narrows his eyes in suspicion. "What for?" "Well, to get in touch with the art I'll be teaching you." "WHAT?!?" "You've read about it haven't you? I wrote a book on the theories behind it in the family library." Kenji nods guiltily. "I, uh... never actually spent that much time in the library, to tell the truth. An' I never heard about any variants on the family school." Yuriko ceases orbiting Kenji and floats to rest in front of him. Her outfit has changed: now she wears a white gi and her hair is pulled back into a serviceable ponytail with a leather cord. "Well, that'll make teaching you a little hard. I thought that at the very least you'd know the theories behind my art. Not even a little bit?" Kenji shakes his head. Yuriko sighs in vague annoyance. "Right. Let's start from the beginning, then. Do you know what ki is?" Kenji nods. "That gets taught in the basic classes." "Good. That's comforting at least. Anyway, ki comes in two forms: yang, or masculine energy, and yin, or feminine energy. Everyone has a mixture of both in them, and this mixture helps explain a lot of things. Most people lean a bit towards their own sex's energies, but even then it's only slightly. You with me so far?" Kenji nods. "All right. Now, most sources say that the ideal way to approach ki is to arrive at a balance between the two, the better to exploit the way the two energies interact with each other. What I was working on was a way of working on mastering all the nuances of one of those energies: Yin. My style is a method of getting in touch with feminine energy in every way possible. But doing that requires an intimate understanding of all aspects of the female experience. "We'll need to focus on that part first; some basic training in feminine behavior, for starters. I wasn't originally thinking of teaching this to a boy. But now that I think of it, you already have a better grasp of your yang anyway, so the end result might actually be even more impressive..." "NOW HOLD ON A MINUTE!" Yuriko pauses in mid-explanation at Kenji's exclamation, and he continues. "Whaddya mean 'intimate understanding of femininity'? I never agreed to anything like that! You just said you'd teach me an art that'll help me beat up Dad. You never said nothin' about havin' to wear dresses or learn about being girly or anything like that." "Well, I guess it is a new experience for you, but I'm sure you'll get used to it in no time. You really do look nice when dressed right, you know." "That wasn't what I meant! You can't tell me that this... what's this art called, anyway?" Yuriko smiles. "It's the Maiden's fist, sweetie. And I take it you're doubting me on whether or not it works?" Kenji pauses, calming down a bit. "Well, no offense or anything, but it does sound kinda far-fetched." Yuriko nods. "Well, that's fair. Tell you what. How about I show you it in action?" Kenji scratches his chin. "Sounds cool, but how're you gonna..." Yuriko interrupts him. "Well, I thought that'd be obvious." She dissolves once more from the bottom up, becoming a pale blue mist, which cloys at his body and flows into his mouth. Immediately he feels a strange sensation of distance, a sense of detachment to his surroundings. Yuriko shakes his head, stretching. "Are you with me in there?" (Yeah. How come I didn't black out this time?) Yuriko-in-Kenji blushes. "Actually, I got a bit carried away yesterday. I'll try not to do that anymore. Now, first thing's first, we need to get dressed." Indeed, Kenji is still naked, and turns back towards the closet. "What to wear?" (Oh no you don't. No skirts, Yuriko!) Kenji sighs in exasperation. "Really Kenji, stop being so difficult about this. You should be proud of your body, and you'll be wearing skirts more often if you plan on mastering the Maiden's fist anyway." With that he opens up the bottom drawer of his dresser and grabs something: a pair of small sacks made from what appear to be pantyhose, filled with small seeds. (What the heck are those?) "Something one of the sales ladies told me about. She said she gets a lot of boys at the store, and this was the best cheap way she knew about to make up for what nature doesn't give you." (You mean breasts?) Kenji blushes slightly. "Well, yes." He places the prosthetics on top of the dresser and opens up the top drawer, where he keeps his socks and underwear. Out from underneath he pulls a bra and a pair of panties, both plain white cotton. (Thought of everything, didn't you?) He steps into the panties and straps on the bra, placing the pouches in the cups. "Of course I did." From the closet he pulls a white half-slip and pulls it up past his hips. Next comes a thin white corset. (What the heck is that?) Kenji giggles. "Making up for another problem." He laces himself in, not too tightly, then goes back to rummaging through the closet. (Yuriko, I've got school in a couple of hours. I can't go out like this.) "School! Of course. Something nice and simple." He selects a girl's school uniform identical to the one Yuriko was manifesting earlier and puts it on. Next he locates a pair of white hair ties... (Bottom drawer again.) ...brushes out his hair, pulls it into two ponytails and teases out the bangs. After a few minutes of light work with a make-up kit... (Middle drawer, hidden under a stack of comics.) ...he poses in front of the mirror, smiling. "See Kenji? You look adorable. There's nothing to worry about." Looking into the mirror, he sees a teenage girl who shares some resemblance to himself. Her figure is slim, with smallish breasts, a somewhat slim waist and longish legs flattered by the knee-length skirt of the uniform. Yuriko's makeup job does an excellent job of emphasizing the feminine aspects of Kenji's facial features. Under other circumstances, Kenji would see this girl and consider asking her on a date. Drastically different circumstances, of course. (What's the point of me dressing like this, anyway? Lots of girls don't even wear skirts outside of school.) Kenji closes the closet and walks out the door, tracing a familiar morning path. "That's not the point, Kenji. First, women are often expected to wear restrictive clothing, and you'll need to learn to accommodate that in case you wind up having to fight like this." He takes care to step around a decorative rug placed in the middle of the hallway, still walking at a leisurely pace. "Think of it as learning to fight in awkward conditions. Second, the Maiden's Fist requires that you be in touch with all aspects of femininity, and the clothing is a training aid." Here he ducks a large wooden log that swings across the hall at where head-height would have been, then continues. (I guess that kinda makes sense, yeah. So it's more training, then?) He smiles as he reaches the door to the dojo. The pitfall from yesterday has been boarded over. "Well, that and I didn't have the chance to try this one on yet and thought you'd look cute in it." With that, he opens the door, stepping inside. Monday morning is usually a crowded time at the Fujishima clan's dojo, and today is no exception: all around the room are black-clad figures. Some spar with one another, some practice with weapons on training dummies, which have been brought out for such a purpose, and some move from group to group, dispensing pointers or providing criticism. "So Kenji, who's the best student in this room in your opinion?" (Huh? Cousin Ozaki, I'd say. Over by the corner with the bo staff.) Kenji turns to look in this direction and sees him: Tall, with a build wiry like that of his borrowed body but more muscular, practicing with a staff on a wooden dummy. None of the teachers go anywhere near him to advice or criticize. (You aren't thinking of fighting him, are you? He'll cream us!) Kenji walks confidently in his direction, ignoring the confused looks he receives as people register his presence. "Who's that?" "Looks familiar, but I don't recognize her." "Should we throw her out?" "She looks like she knows what she's doing here." Ozaki turns to face Kenji, holding the bo in one hand. His eyes are the only feature that can be seen in his current costume: dark brown and intense. "Can I help you?" he asks, a touch of patronizing sarcasm present. (Yuriko, what the heck are you doing? I said he'll kick the crap out of us. I know teachers who don't like to spar with him.) Kenji shifts into a fighting stance: legs apart to create a better center of balance, arms out with the elbows loose and the hands open. (Open-handed?) "Fujishima Ozaki, I challenge you." Now the eyes of everyone else in the room are on the two. Ozaki snorts. "Give me one reason why I should accept your challenge. You haven't even bothered to wear something you can fight in." Kenji giggles, batting his eyelashes at Ozaki, "Oh, I think I can fight in this. And, unless I've missed my mark, I bet I could beat you." In the background a few people laugh nervously. Ozaki's expressions are hidden under his mask, but there's just the hint of a twitch, and he goes to set the staff aside. "All right, I'll take your challenge." Kenji shakes his head, "Oh no, go ahead and use it." A murmur erupts from the crowd. Ozaki eyes Kenji cautiously, then picks up the bo, moving into a ready stance. (Yuriko, if he kills me I swear I'm gonna haunt you until the end of time.) The crowd falls silent, spreading out to give the two fighters their room. Both fighters stand ready, unblinking, waiting for an eternity for a sign of weakness on the part of their opponent. (What are you waiting for, Yuriko? He's just standing there.) (You've got a lot to learn about fighting, Kenji. This is as much a part of the fight as when we start attacking. Finding weak spots, testing your foes' resolve. It's all important.) Finally the moment arrives and the fighters approach each other cautiously. The fight begins. Or at least Ozaki moves in for an attack; Kenji just stands, smiling cutely at his opponent. Ozaki snarls and takes a swing at Kenji with his staff; Kenji responds with an elegantly done curtsey, incidentally ducking the blow. Ozaki pauses, apparently stunned by the events, the crowd stares at the tableau. (What the heck was that?!?) Kenji springs back up, causing Ozaki to involuntarily leap backwards. "My turn?" he asks, giggling. Before Ozaki can respond, Kenji catches him across the chin with a barehanded slap. The crack reverberates throughout the room as Ozaki's head is knocked upwards by the force of the blow. Kenji follows up with a pirouette that turns into a kick at Ozaki's midsection. With a huff of expelled air, Ozaki falls to the ground. Kenji steps on his staff. "Give in, honey?" The audience seems uncertain for a moment... then applauds. Not a loud applause, but one suitable for an occasion like this. Kenji moves to the right, off of Ozaki's staff, then curtseys again. "Thank you, everyone. The techniques you just saw are part of a new branch of this school." The crowd falls silent, listening while Ozaki stands with as much dignity as he can muster. "It is an incomplete art at the moment, but I promise to you now that I will finish it and master it for the sake of our clan." (Incomplete. As in unfinished. Yuriko, you mind telling me just how unfinished this style is?) (Well... the theories are complete. I'm pleased with how well it worked on its' first trial run.) (FIRST trial? You mean it hadn't even been used before today?) One of the teachers, whose escapes Kenji at the moment, chooses this moment to interrupt his internal dialogue. "Who are you, and what is this art which you have showed us today?" Kenji smiles cutely. "The art is that of the Maiden's Fist. And me? I'm surprised you don't all recognize me. I'm Fujishima-" "KENJI!" shouts his father, having just entered the dojo a moment ago. To be continued.