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[Thread] [Okamoto Katsushiro and Shampoo]

Who: Okamoto Katsushiro (

first_image) and Shampoo (

amazonianism)
What: Shampoo invited Okamoto Katsushiro to try learning something of fighting (again) from her.
When: Now?
Where: Somewhere in the courtyard(s).
Rating: PG/PG-13 (Language dependent)

Shampoo stretched, eying the courtyard as a whole with a critical expression on her face. Between her unsatisfactory run in with the Ranma yet not Ranma the other day, and the inconclusive evidence of the library, she was more than glad for an excuse to be actively moving against someone. The journals were odd, as a tool; you could communicate with veritably anyone, though knowing who they were in reality was a toss up of if they were a good enough liar or you an astute enough observer.

In this case, she didn't know what to expect; she only hoped the offer to bother helping an individual who had lost a skill she herself considered to be priceless would be sufficiently worth her time. (She may have more than enough time on her hands, but she wasn't forced to squander it away on people less than deserving. Of course, her standards of "deserving" were a bit in the air.)

Still, as she craned her head up to examine the turrets, eyes squinting against reflection, she hoped this person would be here soon. Her journal lay open on the ground, and she occassionally glanced over. The magic which made other words appear still fascinated her, to an extent. She was eying them in speculation as she leaned on the wooden length of the poles she'd found.

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Katsushiro was standing in the hall of the first floor, just in front of the doors that led outside. The journal was in his hands, his eyes locked on the words of the strange girl, which was a wide assumption of gender on his part. Though he supposed "Shampoo" pretty much gave off obvious signs, but that was besides the point.

So he had an offer to be trained by someone that could have been lying for all he knew. That was one of the main defects of these magical journals. You could communicate with everyone and anyone that had one, but it could be dangerous. At the moment, he was hoping this girl wouldn't be a disappointment to his standards.

Though he had to wonder what his standards were anymore when he didn't have any idea how to fight.

Stepping outside, squinting in the sun, Katsushiro quickly made his way to the courtyard where he had agreed to meet the 'girl'. Seeing someone standing there, he approached slowly, wondering if -

"Uh, are you...Shampoo?"

"Yes," she said, looking at the newcomer and sighing internally. Definitely a male, this one. "You is?" She straightened, observing her impromptu student of sorts. Fairly young, in good health, and from what he appeared to have lost, a somewhat decent warrior by presumption. Shampoo was curious to see if he'd lost even the muscle memory ingrained after years of repeating the same motion in order to survive.

Males were always annoying to work with. Between the assumptions they made concerning their own strength and agility in comparison to that of a woman's, they were much less honest in battle. Of course, in life or death, there were other considerations; sparring held itself apart on it's very nature.

"Uh, I’m Katsushiro," he replied, wincing inwardly at the pathetic tone in his voice. What had happened to all that time of training himself to be strong? It was almost like he had reverted completely back to how he’d been in the beginning. How annoying.

"You talked to me over the journals and said you could help me…?" Taking a good look at Shampoo, he stopped himself from making any quick judgments. It was obvious that she had come from a world of her own, but that didn’t mean anything. A feeling in his stomach told him this was going to be very different training.

Shampoo, had she known of things like personal advertisements or job agencies, would have found a strange parallel in their marketing system, and Katsushiro's own phraseology here. "Shampoo say this," she consented, nodding her head. "You is looking unsure, yes?"

Considering his self-offered teacher wore a shapely dress of Chinese origin, slit high up her thigh and in a brilliant scarlet and gold, she supposed there was a reason for him to be unsure. Then again, if she wasn't mistaken, he was Japanese-like; and goodness knew that the Japanese were a discreet law unto themselves.

"You know is lost knowledge. Is tell Shampoo what is you know now lost?" She was still leaning on the poles, roughly half an inch thick each. She looked fairly serious, waiting for an answer.

It took him a moment for his mind to process her words. They sounded awkward to him, but at the same time he found they were understandable enough. “I can’t use a sword anymore,” Katsushiro frowned, glancing down at the blade tucked away by his side. "It’s almost as if I can’t even hold one properly, though that doesn’t make sense at all. It’s confusing and definitely frustrating."

A bit more and he would have launched into a rant about how stupid this place was and how he wanted to go home so he could fight another war like the samurai he was. He was sure Shampoo wouldn’t have appreciated that too much.

"So, yes, I’m unsure because I don’t know if I’ll be able to learn again," He was uncertain about everything and was honestly praying it wouldn’t turn out to be that way. "It’s not your dress or anything, really, it –" He broke off abruptly, blushing all of a sudden, mumbling something along the lines of "Stupid, stupid me."

The woman straightened up, tossing one of the two lengths of wood at the young man with her lips pursed in something like consideration. "Shampoo know looks good in dress. Is no important here." She was perfectly self confident, but the statement came out as a blasse fact, something far less interesting than whatever she was concerning herself over with him.

"Is possible may no learn what lost; is also possible may relearn. Is different, little ways, with different teachers, no?" Shampoo pushed her hair behind her shoulders, smiling a bit. "Wood is like sword. No like cut you, however. This case, better. Show me hold wood." She didn't seem to be particularly interested in whether or not Katsushiro was actually interested in learning, or if he was too caught up in the negative possibilities to pause and wave a veritable stick around at a strange woman's bidding.

He had caught the wood properly enough, and that gave him a slight boost of confidence. But Katsushiro was sure that the lost look that appeared on his face as she told him to demonstrate a basic skill ruined the effect. His self-confidence went back to zero.

"Uh." He racked his brain, searching his memories for the basics he knew were in there somewhere. He could see them, just out of reach. Yet he couldn’t get his body to act them out. That left him standing there with a wooden stick in his hand, staring at his self-made teacher.

How nice.

Shampoo eyed him, musing. "You seem think hard - body no react." Which left her thinking of ways to breach what was obviously known, and simply missing.

She supposed she could try something he likely wouldn't know - a style she herself had learned from a foreigner to keep herself entertained and practicing new things in the pursuit if Ranma.

Besides, it had been a trade of sorts. They got fed, Shampoo got entertained.

"Is possible no able do any what used do." She wasn't asking. "Try other things. Hold stick like Shampoo." She held the length of wood in such a way it seemed a continuation of her arm, a ready stance if you were holding a rapier and fighting in that particular style.

She half assumed he'd copy the rest of her stance, including the placement of her feet. If he couldn't at all, then Shampoo already had a second plan. (Other than laugh privately.)

Katsushiro automatically moved to copy her entire stance, pleased his body could at least still manage something as simple as that. It wasn't a position entirely unfamiliar to him, and he supposed that was why he felt so awkward, but that was besides the point. He had to concentrate on this and not make a fool of himself with Shampoo.

For some reason, he felt that wasn't possible to avoid, not with her.

"Okay..." Katsushiro rolled his shoulders, swinging the stick slightly. "What now?"

He could do this, he could do this. Hell, he had fought a war against the Nobuseri and come out alive, how could he not do this?

And he wondered if Shampoo was enjoying herself with this. If he'd judged her character right, she probably was.

Shampoo was having a veritable ball; she was perpetually curious exactly how willing this person would be to do what she asked of them. Considering her primary style of fighting relied on practicing and honing skills in a variety of extenuating circumstances, a flat ground, straight-forward lesson was almost invigoratingly new.

How long it would remain interesting depended on Katsushiro. (And Shampoo's attention span.)

"Now move feet," she said simply, moving to his side before demonstrating the technically correct patterns of footwork for this style of fighting. They were a good basis - reiterating how one needed to be sure of footing to be a substantial threat.

Otherwise, as some noted individuals learned, you ended up flat on your behind and dead, if a spar had been battle instead. Then again, Shampoo was very aware of how important footwork and adaptability was to a fighter - one grand example being the balancing acts of fighting on a log. (Said activity did wonders for your ability to keep your balance in adverse situations.)

Either way, Katsushiro fell into a certain degree of natural aptitude; whatever he'd lost was a developed degree of said talent. Which didn't prevent Shampoo from being vaguely amused as she proceeded to demonstrate basic lunges and deflections, thinking in the back of her mind that if he didn't grow tired of this, she'd need to locate something more appropriate than these wooden implements for practice. "Try hit me."

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[Thread] [Okamoto Katsushiro and Shampoo]

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