Prologue:


"Where is that boy..." Genma growled, as he almost giddily scowered the neighborhood. After several tries, Ranma finally mastered the Cat Fist, also ridding himself of that weakling fear of cats. As he continued his search, Genma beamed; he knew the boy could do it, it was just a matter of repetition, one of the hallmarks of martial arts. And that silly final page said he was a complete moron for attempting such a dangerous training. Shows what they knew!

His search brought him by an old lady, sitting quietly on her porch, and watching the day go by. "Uh, excuse me," Genma enquired, stopping briefly, "I don't suppose you've seen my son around, have you? About ten, pigtail, wearing a gi?"

"Oh, I love children!" The old woman exclaimed, her nearly closed eyes lightening a bit with the wrinkles becoming less, "My daughter used to bring her children by every so often, but now they've grown up, and will be having their own children soon. Oh, how adorable they would be! They were already handsome and beautiful, I can just imagine how their own pride will be!"

"Um, yes, well..." Genma made a sour face, as he considered how to get away politely from this old fart's conversation, "I... have to look for my son, I can't talk right now." He didn't even give her time to acknowlege his leave, as he dashed from her presence.

"Oh, how I enjoy the presence of children, they make me feel quite young..." The old woman paused, and turned to hear a cat's mewing, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty."

Sensing the old woman was safe, and would bring him no harm, the orange, extremely hungry tabby walked onto the porch, hoping the old lady would have some food for it.
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Genma had found Ranma, and sincerely wished he hadn't.

His son was snuggled in the lap of a man sitting on a park bench, who had been apparently enjoying the day. The balding caucasian gently stroked Ranma's side, as he stared at Genma with hard blue-green eyes that matched lasers for their intensity. Genma had *never* seen, or felt a stare like that before. It seemed to break him down, analyze every aspect of him, study him like a specimen in a science experament, and finally say 'there are no secrets you can hide from me, there are no lies you can speak'. The 'smirk', if you could call it that, that graced the man's face held no humor, no malice, no emotion to give away his thought. From an outward appearance, you couldn't tell if the man found Genma amusing, or an irritance that needed to be dealt with.

Genma wanted to step back in fear, but that very look held him still. Accompanying that wholly unnerving look, was an aura of sheer *danger*. Genma could note that the man didn't seem to have a heavy physicality, unlike himself as a martial artist, so it seemed unlikely that he could defeat Genma in a straight fight. But something else, something about him that screamed to the martial artist of the man's deadliness easily cowled Genma unlike any punishment he had ever recieved, even at the hands of the master. Yet, Ranma snuggled against the man as if he were in the arms of an angel. How could his son, even acting as peculiar as he was, NOT feel the danger he was in? To Genma, himself, it was like a rabbit staring into the maw of a massive cobra, completely hypnotized with nowhere to go.

Genma didn't know how long it had been. To him, it could have been mere moments to eternity, but after that time, the man spoke in almost impeccible Japanese with only a slight accent, "You will tell me everything that has happened to this boy."
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At the command, Genma almost found that he could not disobey. Wether it be from fear or some peculiar hypnotic spell, he could not discern. The man didn't make a noise or motion during the tale of Ranma's most rescent training regimen, save the soft stroking of the purring boy in his lap. It was recited by Genma almost mechanically, as if his fear had not found its way into his voice. Every detail, every nuance Genma could remember was revealed without delay. Genma still hadn't moved from his spot, and stood in place as he recollected his foolishness. After Genma was done, he felt as if he were confessing his sins before a demon from the worst of Hells, one that had come to claim him, and punish him in the most cunning and soul-agonizing of ways.

The man looked down after a moment after the tale was finished, still idly stroking the boy who seemed to believe himself to be a cat. He gave no other outward appearance of his contemplation or his mood, but he was furious. He had done things in his time that many have believed to be atrocities, but currently, he himself was inflamed by the man's audacity. To throw his own child into a pit of starving cats... repeatedly...

But.. something about what this man had set out to do appealed to him. Not the cat fist training, as only a imbecil would even contemplate it. No, it was passing down an artform, a martial art, for the sake of making his son the best there was. It was an idea that intrigued him, and gave him a pleasant idea which would provide him with a distraction for the time being. Plus, it would give him the entertaining chance of finding a way to cure Ranma of his current... ailment.

"Mr. Saotome, I have a proposition for you..."

The light and almost jovial tone that was addressing Genma put the martial artist on alert far more than even the direct tone he had used to command him to go over what had caused Ranma's current trauma. Before he could answer, the man directed his eyes back to Ranma, "I have something of a... dicipline, myself, that would prove beneficial and rewarding for your dear son."

Genma felt himself relax, only somewhat, as the man sitting before him with his son claimed himself to be a martial artist, "Oh?" He didn't drop his defenses, though.

"Yes, it is something of a academic..." the smirk deepened into a disarming smile, "martial art. If you would be interested? It has quite a bit of potential that your son would immensely benefit from."

At the idea of Ranma learning a new, promisingly powerful martial art from this man, Genma's fear was temporarily cast aside, "Is that so? What is your school, if I may ask?"

The man's expression never changed, "Is it not customary for you to give your own, first?"

Genma did not know that custom, which would probably be because the man had just come up with it, "Of course, my son and I are versed in the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts."

The man nodded once, and adjusted himself, as Ranma attempted to snuggle closer against him, "Very well, I practice the Lechter Academic Martial Dicipline..."
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Ranma/ Hannibal
'Mind Games'