4: After a few more arguments, Calyx finally convinced Ranma that they should at least contact the people she suggested to see if they would be willing to help. Hima backed one of her nominations to the hilt, which may have been a factor in his eventual concession. It was agreed that Ranma, Hima and Sheila would go to the one she suspected would take the most convincing, while she contacted the other and picked up her sword from the fencing club's locker room. Then they would all reunite back at Calyx's room. As she walked briskly through the night-darkened hallways, staying alert to avoid the night watchmen, she weighed her two goals against each other and decided that she ought to get the sword first. It would probably be easier than the explanation and persuasion. When she arrived at the Fencing Hall, she fumbled in her jacket pocket for the keycard Nataku-sensei had given her to let her access the area after hours. The door to the gymnasium-sized room opened up and she walked in. Calyx had never been in this room at night before, and hadn't realized that the moon would be shining in through the eastern windows, filling it with a cold, eerie light. As she walked slowly through that light, she thought about what Ranma had told her about the old school which had been here more than a thousand years ago. Just as Sheila's story confirmed information for him, his account forced her to re-evaluate Nataku=sensei's story. As well as his off-handed comment about the administration having a grudge against the fencing team. If whoever -- or whatever -- had been running that school was in charge of the Academy now ... She wondered what they'd been like, those long-ago duellists. She wondered if they'd trained in a gym like this one. Pointless speculation. Utterly idle. She still wondered. Like her room, her locker bore relatively few personal touches, containing only her padding and two blades. One was the practice rapier that she'd used in her bout with Nataku-sensei less than twelve hours before. But the other ... She drew *her* sword out of the locker with all the gentleness of a mother holding her child ... or that with which she'd been held, long ago, by the one who gave it to her. From time to time she entertained wild notions of somhow smuggling the sword back to her room. Even ignoring the potential punishment if she was caught, the dream still never lasted. When she held her sword in her hands, she felt invincible. But if she were to hold it very often, the reality -- that she was anything but -- would eventually intrude and ruin it ever after. Moments like this were meant to be treasured. She proceeded to do so. "What are you doing?" The interruption almost made her drop the sword as she turned, startled. Nataku-sensei stood at the door, wearing a set of practical clothes -- the ideal clothes for someone working in an office until late at night -- and with his own sword in hand. His face was unreadable. "Sensei ... I --" Then a faint smile blossomed on that hard-edged face. "It's all right, Calyx. I can guess. Something has happened -- to a friend of yours, probably -- that's made you want to take up arms in her defense. Am I right?" She relaxed a bit. "Yeah, pretty much. You see --" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I don't need to know. I do understand, though. But I can't let you do it. I'm sorry." After a long moment, Calyx finally breathed the words "Excuse me?" "Unfortunately, my dar, I have a clearer understanding of what you're up against than you yourself do. You see, I have seen the End of the World with my own eyes, and you -- happily -- have not. You cannot hope to defeat him. The best outcome you can expect is to suffer a fate worse than death, and rest assured, Calyx, such do exist. I will not let you risk your soul in this vain, foolhardy action. You will not pass through these doors until it is all over." Calyx stared at him, then said three words in Averoignard French. They could be translated as "Fuck you asshole," but to do so would rob them of much of their venom. It was Nataku's turn to say "Excuse me?" "Who the hell do you think you are?" Calyx almost yelled the non sequitur. "You're my fencing teacher, not my confessor and sure as hell not my father. Whatever I do or don't do outside this hall is no business of yours. "And don't give me some screed about knowing what I'm facing better than I do. I have no idea what I'm facing, and I don't care. I have confidence that even if it is too much for me, I'll still win with my friends' help. That's right, my friends -- you didn't even know that I wasn't alone in this, so how can you know what we can accomplish? "A thousand years ago, there was a school here. A thousand years ago, there were duels going on. Some of those duels were probably fought by fencers. Maybe you don't give a damn about their legacy, but I sure as hell do. Now get the hell out of my way." Nataku just gazed at her with a faint touch of pity in his expression. "I see," he said at last, nodding. "I suppose then that I have no choice but to kill you then." He immediately attacked. If Calyx's reflexes had been even a bit slower, the point of his blade would have gone through her throat. As it was she caught his rapier with the hilt of her own and deflected its course to the right so that its point scraped against the paint of the lockers. That scraping sound, more than anything else, awakened Calyx to the reality that she was, for the first time, in a fight for her life. Reactions honed on the rugby field melded with years of training with her sword; she took immediate adavantage of the momentarily unbalanced stance of his lunge to drive an elbow blow to Nataku's stomach, forcing him even further off-balance so that she could slip past him and dark through the swinging door of the locker room. Discretion, after all, was the better part of valor, and she'd fought enough practice bouts against him to be very discrete when she realized that he intended her serious harm. Besides, the changing room was far too small a space for a fight. As he burst through the door immediately behind her, Calyx had already worked out her strategy. She erected a nearly solid wall of steel between them through jabs and feints as she backed towards the door to the hall. She moved slowly backwards, trying to fake him into believing that he was forcing her back. Hopefully she'd be able to bar the other side of the door somehow. And then her back was against the door, pushing against it -- ineffectively. He was standing in front of her, and for the first time she realized just how much taller he was as he looked down on her with an expression which seemed almost grieving and said "I am sorry, my love. Perhaps, in the next life --" and drove his sword towards her heart. A touch. After a moment, Calyx realized that the explosion of pain she'd expected had not arrived. Her eyes focused on the point touching just above her right breast, then moved up the blade to the trembling hand that held it, and to the arm that was still straining to drive it home, and the hand on the upper arm that held it back ... "Uh uh," said Saotome Ranma. Almost effortlessly, Ranma pulled him back and as she sank to her knees she could hear the sounds of a major beating being applied. But for some reason she found it difficult to lift her head. She vaguely realized that she was on the verge of curling up into a fetal position, and fought back. No matter how much she resisted, though, she couldn't stop shivering. A few moments later, she finally managed to look up. Ranma was crouching just a bit outside of arm's reach -- good, safe distance -- and looking at her with concern. "I'm all right," she said after a moment, willing it to be true. "How did you --" "I had a hunch," he answered. They were both silent for a long moment, and Calyx found herself quietly thanking him for not making her feel even worse with empty platitudes like "it's okay to be scared" or "everyone gets like this after a serious fight." They would only have made her hate herself more. "He's part of it," she finally told him. "He said that he'd seen the end of the world and wanted to save me from it. *That* was how he wanted to save me." Ranma frowned. "Not the zaniest excuse for a murder ever used by a genuine nutcase, but if he *is* part of it ... he might know some stuff we need to know. He turned to look at where Nataku-sen-- no, Nataku, forever -- Nataku's unconscious body was crumpled in a corner of the hall. "I think I'm gonna have to get that stuff out of him." As he rose up, she realized his meaning and managed to feel appalled. "You're going to *torture* him? That's --" "Relax," he replied. "I don't need to torture people anymore. Just gimme a second, okay?" He went over to the body, and rested a hand against its face. A low humming sound issued from his throat. TBC