Attached here are Scenes 41 and 42 of Spreading Wings.
C&C Welcome.
Scenes 43 and 44 from Spreading Wings.
No more until Monday. Ya'll have a nice Thanksgiving!
Regards,
Don Granberry.
Most of the characters in this piece and the setting for it, were
conceived of by Rumiko Takahashi for her Ranma1/2 series of Manga. All
such characters and the setting are the property of Takahashi-san and
her licensees. All other characters in the piece are purely fictional
and any resemblences to actual persons living or dead are purely
coincidental.
Spreading Wings
Part I: The Burning Ring of Fire
Scenes 43 and 44
Nabiki turned right on Canal street and headed north. She glanced to
her right as went around the corner and got glimpse of what was behind
her. Westerlake was beginning to gain on her a little. That was not
nearly so alarming as what was behind Westerlake. Nabiki sped up a
little to put more distance between herself and her pursuers. As she did
so, she found herself being greeted by Happosai running in the opposite
direction on Canal.
"Hello, Nabiki!" Happosai called out to her happily.
"Hello, Grandfather!"
"Whadja do to them?" Happosai asked, "Steal their jock straps?"
"Wouldn't you like to know!"
"If you had just let me know in advance, I would have helped you
train for this!"
"Up yours, Gramps!" Nabiki said, signaling him with the
traditional, digitus impudicus.
"Careful now! One little slip and you'll learn about that first
hand!" Happosai retorted.
A quarter mile further north on Canal Street it began to happen
to her. She began to have the "runner's rush," sometimes referred to as
"athlete's euphoria." She began to feel relaxed despite the fact her
body was expended copious quantities of energy. Confidence and pride in
her body began washing through her. Each and every step became a cause
for celebration. She knew exactly what this was of course. It was a
flood of endorphins. Her own body drugging itself. She did not care. It
felt good. Having half a troop train's worth of men running behind her
made it seem all the better. Careful Nabiki! She warned herself
mentally. You'll end up being as perverted as Happosai. The unbidden,
mental image of herself stealing jockey straps nearly made her lose
concentration. She managed not to waste her wind on laughing but there
was nothing she could do to stop the manic grin which seized her face.
Canal Street forked in front of the Kuno Estate. The left branch
followed the winding canal, the right branch simply looped around the
estate and blended back into Canal on the estate's northwestern corner.
Nabiki decided that following the right fork would be as good a way as
any to turn around.
She discovered that the main gate of Kuno Estate was standing open as
she approached the fork. Sasuki, Tatewaki Kuno's omnipresent manservant
and ninja was working on one of the hinges or something. Nabiki waved at
him as she took the right fork, unaware that she was still grinning.
Sasuki looked up at her, started to wave and then dropped his tools as
his mouth fell open. Nabiki ignored his consternation and kept running.
Westerlake, with the motely and now rapidly tiring crew of working
stiffs still pounding along behind him, did not take the right fork. Nor
did he take the left fork. Instead, he led the slavering mob through the
gate, thundering onto the Kuno property despite Sasuki's very loud and
urgent protests. Nabiki heard them and fumed. I can't believe he tried
to cut across on me! She thought. I am going to give him nine-kinds of
hell for that! By the time she reached Canal and made a left turn, her
happy mood had evaporated. Approaching the fork in Canal though brought
her another surprise. The mob that had been following her was now
running in the same direction she was, only they were running at a full
sprint. Nabiki laughed to herself. Only the very brave or the very
foolish tread on Kuno soil uninvited and unescorted.
She padded southwards along Canal having decided to finish her
run by returning home, when she heard an odd noise behind her.
Thump! Clank! Scrape. Thump! Clank! Scrape.
Nabiki cast a look over her shoulder. It was Westerlake. He was
running behind her as best he could while trying to remove a steel trap
from his left arm and another from his right foot. Serves you right, you
big cheater! She thought at him.
Clang! Ting, ting, ting! Clang! Twank! Ting! Ting, ting, ting.
Westerlake had shed the traps. She could hear his pace pick up.
She quickened her pace to make sure she held the gap between them. He
did not let up. Oh! Nabiki thought, Ranma was right about him. He does
run like a donka. Let's see how well he holds up when the pace gets hot.
Rather than turn left off of Canal to go back to her home, she led
Westerlake south towards his own place which was at least a mile further
away than the Tendo Dojo.
With a quarter mile to go she could feel his aura as he began to close
the gap. She gasped, wondering how many poor Mig pilots had suffered
this same experience. It was disquieting to have Wild Bill Westerlake on
your tail. She sped up. He matched her pace for a little while, then
sped up some more. The power of his aura surged into her own. She fed
the energy to her legs. The last hundred meters was an all out sprint to
the death. She felt his hand on her shoulder as they reached the edge of
his yard.
"Tag!" Westerlake panted-gasped, "You're it!"
They both collapsed upon the wet grass of Westerlake's front yard and
lay still for several minutes, unable to do anything but breath. Nabiki
recovered first.
"I can't believe you tried to cut across on me!" she said in
English.
"I wasn't trying to cut across!"
"Oh, really? What was that little stunt at Kuno's all about
then?"
"What? You thought those guys were following us just to look at
your cute little bottom?" Westerlake yelled, sounding outraged, "They
were after my ass!"
"So?"
"So, I figured if I cut across that courtyard, or whatever that
was, and hopped over the back wall, I'd lose about half of 'em."
Neither of them had enough breath to continue for a few more
moments.
"Did you know there is a great big, freaking crocodile in there?"
Westerlake's voice cracked as he spoke.
Nabiki laughed between pants.
"Oh, you mean you met Mr. Green Turtle?" she asked.
"Yeah! He invited me to stay for dinner."
Nabiki fell back onto the soggy grass laughing and hurting all at
one and the same time.
"While I was discussing the main course with 'Mr. Green Turtle,'
your friends and admirers hauled ass."
Nabiki hooted.
"I wondered why they were running so hard."
"After I finally get away from our reptilian acquaintance, and
climb up out of his ditch, this ugly little guy about a meter and half
tall starts shooting at me with a crossbow."
"Oh, how wonderful!" Nabiki said, "You got to meet Sasuke as
well!"
"This may seem odd to you, but the only thing I hate worse than
getting shot at, is getting shot!" Westerlake said, sounding aggrieved.
"What about the traps?"
"Hell, I don't remember where or how I picked those up. I was too
busy dodging quarrels and some sort of hand thrown shrapnel."
Nabiki laughed while covering her mouth with both hands. She
stared at Westerlake with shining eyes.
"What I can't figure out, is how a guy that little could walk
around all day with a hundred pounds of steel stashed in his clothing."
"I don't know what to say!" she finally said, then began laughing
again.
"Come on," Westerlake said as he got tiredly to his feet, "I'll
buy you a quart of Gator Aid(tm)."
Nabiki took his proffered hand and pulled herself up.
"I take you on a nice tour of Nerima, show you it's natural
wonders and architectural beauty and now you want me to choke on Gator
Aid(tm)?"
She did her best to sound peeved. Westerlake grinned ruefully but
did not buy it.
"Gator Aid(tm) first," he said, "then something else."
"Why Captain Westerlake! I do believe you are a fitness freak."
"You betcha! Do you have any idea what it would cost me if they
called me back to active duty, and I had to replace my uniforms?"
---------
Noboru Kanemura stood under the deep eaves of the paper shop
watching the entrances of the business he had been assigned to keep
track of, including Ucchan's Okinomiyaki Shop. Business had slowed
enormously as the drizzle set in and he was bored. He leaned up against
the new soda machine and sighed.
"Get off me you hairy ape!" someone yelled.
Kanemura stood up with a jerk and looked around to see who was
speaking to whom, alarmed that two people had gotten so close to him
without his being aware of their presence. Finding no one in the
vicinity he backed up against the wall and listened intently for several
minutes.
Nothing.
"I gotta lay off this purple ice shit," he said aloud to himself,
"I'm starting to hear things."
After a few minutes the soda machine once more became a tempting
prop and he leaned up against it again.
"I said stay off me, you jerk!"
Kanemura again jerked upright and looked around for who might have
been speaking. He went so far as to walk out into the weather and poke
around for a few minutes.
Nothing.
Kanemura scratched his head in deep puzzlement. He reached into his
jacket pocket and pulled out a small, flat bottle. He shook it. There
were several pills left in it. He could hear them rattling around. He
walked out to the trash can at the curb and threw the bottle away. He
looked very satisfied with himself as he returned to the sheltering eave
of the paper shop and again leaned up against the soda machine.
"Are you tryin' to make me mad?" someone yelled.
Kanemura ran out into the street and stared wildly all about with
one hand inside his jacket. He stood in a crouch that signaled he was
ready for trouble. He hopped around looking in different directions
several times, then froze. He listened intently to the dripping of the
slow rain and the distant sounds of traffic. He stayed out in the street
long enough that his hair became wet enough for water to start running
down into his eyes.
Nothing.
Finally, Kanemura decided there was no one around for him to
worry about and he cautiously returned to his post beneath the eaves of
the paper shop. He listened and watched intently but saw no one and
heard nothing. He leaned up against the soda machine.
"That did it!" someone yelled, as a sharp little elbow struck
Kanemura in the solar plexus. Kanemura doubled over in pain, unable to
breath. He staggered out into the street. Still bent over, Kanemura
turned around just in time to see the soda machine charging towards him.
"Charge!" the soda machine shrieked.
Kanemura turned to flee, still bent over and struggling to
breath. Something struck him hard between the legs and sent him sailing
over the buildings across the street.
"I just got my ass kicked by a vending machine!" Kanemura said to
himself in an astonished voice as he sailed through the rainy sky.
At first, Kanemura was pleased to find that he had landed on his back
in something soft. He found himself looking up at two linemen working on
a transformer.
"Did you see that, Hiroshi?"
"Yep!" Hiroshi said, "Tsubasa Kurenai just threw away a perfectly
good yakuza."
"That dude is really weird," Daisuke said, "You got five-eighths
inch wrench?"
"I doubt it," Hiroshi said.
"I hate working on this old, American made shit," Daisuke said.
Kanemura sniffed the air. He looked around at the metallic walls
surrounding him. The place stank like a garbag bin. It's a dumpster, you
twit! An alarming little voice in the back of his drug and pain dazed
mind screamed. Kanemura ordered his abused body to get it and him, out
of the stinking metal box. They had a soda machine to hunt down and
kill. Before his body could comply, something banged into the dumpster
upsetting his rather tentative balance. He fell back into the garbage.
Much to Kanemura's horror, the dumpster was about to be emptied. He
broke his fingernails against the metal walls in a vain effort to climb
out before it was too late, but did not make it. He spilled out of the
dumpster with the rest of the garbage and tumbled into one of Nerima's
newest garbage trucks.
The garbage man yawned. This was his last pickup for the day.
After he drove out to the garbage dock and unloaded his truck, he could
go home. He was eager to get on with it. He no longer had to handle the
cans on the smaller streets. Younger men did that now, but he still
found himself itching for a bath by quitting time just the same. He
gunned the engine and engaged the compactor even as he set the dumpster
back in its place. He did not hear Kanemura's screams. The roaring
engine and whining hydraulics were just too loud for Kanemura to be
heard. As the driver backed his truck away from the dumpster he could
see that the warning painted on its side needed to be touched up. He
would report it at the dump. The warning read; Danger! Do not use as a
shelter! Death or severe injury could result.