I Can See Clearly Now!
A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction
M. A. Davis, "Miko"
Co-plotted with Sky Rigdon and Jeffrey Cornish
More ideas from Catbert25, Brendan, and Tom Hayes
Chapter 2: Through A Glass, Clearly
In the morning Mousse swept the sidewalk in front of the
Nekohanten, getting things ready to open again. Shampoo was
just inside the door, setting up the dining area. Mousse could
envision her easily as she moved from table to table, her hips
swaying, her long purple hair sliding across her back, her
sparkling eyes studying everything to make sure it looked
perfect...
Mousse had stopped sweeping, and was staring out into
space.
BANG! A tray careened off the back of Mousse's head
and clattered into the street.
"Mousse!" Shampoo yelled, "Stop stare into space like
idiot and sweep! Is time to open in ten minute!"
Rubbing his head, Mousse gazed once again on
Shampoo's angry visage. No one was cuter when they were
angry, he thought. Her icy glare, her pouting lips... everything
about her was exquisite. Every image of her through these new
goggles revealed things about her that he'd never noticed
before..."
SLAP! Shampoo's hand whacked the side of Mousse's
face, sending him spinning into the street. He landed on his
back, face up to the sky.
"MOUSSE! You wake up and sweep, or I very angry!"
From his new vantagepoint, Mousse had a clear view of
the midmorning Nerima sky. "Look!" he exclaimed, pointing
upwards. "It's that weird kendoist from Furinkan High
School!"
Shampoo glanced up. "Kuno-san? Where you see?"
"Up there, see?" Mousse pointed to a faint speck that was
slowly growing larger. "I think he's coming this way," Mousse
said. He jumped to his feet and ran around to the back alley.
A moment later he appeared with one of the Nekohanten's trash
cans. He glanced up again, stepped a few paces to the left, and
set the can down.
With the whine of an incoming missile, Kuno descended
out of the sky, landing squarely in the trash can.
"Aiya! You seeing much better now, Mousse."
Mousse grinned. Another tray careened off his forehead.
"Now you see way to sweep sidewalk, yes? Six minute to
open!"
Kuno leapt up, brushing garbage from his outfit. "Insolent
dog! You did that on purpose!"
"Yes," Mousse said, "I did. It broke your fall. And?"
"Very well!" Kuno leveled his bokken at Mousse. "You
shall taste the wrath of the blade of Tatewaki Kuno!"
Amid screams of 'tsa! tsa! tsa!' (strike! strike! strike!),
Kuno launched a furious assault, the wooden sword moving so
fast that Mousse could hardly see it. He leapt backwards,
creating some distance between him and the charging would-be
samurai, and launched his trademark chained weapons. In
moments Kuno was wrapped so tightly that he couldn't move,
and with a heave from Mousse, he was once again airborne.
Mousse and Shampoo watched Kuno sail away. "Aiya!"
Shampoo said. "You defeat stupid samurai boy easy! When
you get so good all of sudden, Mousse?"
Mousse flexed his hands thoughtfully. "I guess all of my
practice lately must have paid off. Maybe even..." he became
excited now, "maybe even enough to defeat Ranma! Oh,
Shampoo! What if I can actually do it this time? We could be
together at last!"
Mousse ran to Shampoo, his arms open wide. The
amazon girl caught him under the chin with a well placed kick,
then, as he collapsed, placed the same foot on his head and
ground his face into the sidewalk concrete.
"You see dirt, Mousse? Is gone in two minute or I make
Peking Duck, yes?"
"Yes, Shampoo," Mousse mumbled as well as he was
able. "I understand. I'll start sweeping immediately."
Shampoo lifted her foot. "Good," she said. She glared
down at her childhood companion for several moments longer
before turning to head back into the Nekohanten.
"Stupid Mousse!" she muttered. "You talking crazy.
Kuno-san is easy defeat. You is no defeat Ranma, ever."
***
Mousse took all of his frustration out on the stump.
Weapons whirled through the air and impaled the offending
piece of wood; chains affixed with sharp metal wrapped about
it and dug deep gouges into it's sides. In less than ten minutes
the stump was reduced to a pile of splinters.
"RANMA SAOTOME!" Mousse screamed to the
heavens. "YOU ARE GOING TO PAY! DO YOU HEAR
ME? I WILL CRUSH YOU LIKE AN INSECT!"
He paused, breathing heavily. Here, at his new, secret
training ground, high in the hills above Tokyo, Mousse could
yell all day and no one would hear him. But soon, very soon,
Ranma would hear these very words, and then he would be
reunited with the love of his life....
Mousse stared into space, grinning, imagining Shampoo
in his arms.
"Lovely view of the city from up here."
Mousse spun, ready to use the weapons that still dangled
from his sleeves. However, it was only Wing Ho, the
unassuming eye doctor, who was standing behind him.
Mousse relaxed.
"The people at the Nekohanten said I'd find you here,"
Wing Ho said. "What are you doing, out here in the woods?"
Out of habit, Mousse shoved at the bridge of his goggles.
"I'm training for my next fight."
"Training? Is that what you call staring out into space?"
Mousse blushed. "I... I was thinking about a girl," he said.
"Ah, love. I remember it well. Would this be the young
girl with the purple hair, then?" The optometrist's eyes
twinkled merrily.
Mousse nodded. "Shampoo," he said. "She's all I can
think about...."
"You have good taste, my friend. So, a fight?" Wing Ho
sat down on a rock and pulled out his pipe. "Why? Who do
you want to fight?"
"Ranma," Mousse said, as if it explained everything.
"So I heard," Wing Ho said. "Ranma? I'm afraid I don't
know him. You two have an argument or something, or is this
just between friends?"
"I..." Mousse said, "I... it's kind of complicated. I'd really
rather not go into it."
"As you like." Wing Ho took a puff on his pipe. "So,
how are the goggles doing so far?"
"Wonderful!" Mousse said. "I can see everything! I can
see things I never even knew existed! Well, and some things I
never wanted to know existed, but overall it's fantastic!"
"Good, good," Wing Ho said. "If you're satisfied with
them, then perhaps it's time you pay me for them."
"Pay you?" Mousse squeaked. "I... I don't have much
money. I don't get paid for working at the Nekohanten."
"You work for nothing? But that's illegal!"
"Of course I don't work for nothing!" Mousse got a
dreamy look in his eyes. "I work for the opportunity to be near
my beloved Shampoo...."
"Good grief," the optometrist said, "You've got it bad --
I've never seen such a lovesick puppy in my whole life. Well,
if you're done training for the moment, come with me. I have
something I need to do. You're going to help me, and then
we'll be even."
Mousse nodded, and began following the man down the
mountain. "What is it?" he asked. "Is it difficult? I can't type,
or use a computer, but I can cook okay, and I can beat someone
up, if they deserve it."
"That's the best part, you don't have to do anything. Just
be yourself."
***
Mousse and Wing Ho stood on a downtown Tokyo street
corner.
Mousse handed his goggles to Wing Ho, then turned to
face a businessman.
"More to your left," Wing Ho said. Mousse turned again,
this time facing a post.
"Okay," Wing Ho said. "Anytime you feel comfortable."
Mousse nodded. He took a deep breath, leaned in to get a
good look at the post, and said in a very loud voice, "Sir, could
you kindly direct me to the nearest optometrist?"
Wing Ho stepped up. "Excuse me, good sir, but do you
realize that you are talking to an inanimate object?"
"No," Mousse said, "I had not realized that fact. Thank
you for pointing that out." Carefully Mousse turned to his
right.
"Just a little more," Wing Ho hissed. "There! Got it!" In
a much louder voice, he said, "Oh, no, sir! Now you are
talking to a police box!" Wing Ho gave an exaggerated
grimace apparently meant to indicate concern. "Wow, sir!
You really can not see well at all, can you?"
Mousse held a card six inches from his face. He studied it
carefully before replying.
"No, good fellow. I am as blind as the proverbial bat. I
do not even know what I am missing out on in life. I may
never see the stars at night, or a field of flowers in full bloom,
or a beautiful sunset in all it's glory."
"Fear not!" Wing Ho exclaimed excitedly. "Wing Ho's
Amazing Perfect Vision Glasses are now available too all! Try
a pair on, I guarantee it will change your life!" He presented
the goggles with an elaborate flourish worthy of someone
awarding a Nobel Prize.
Mousse studied his card again.
"Is this where I put them on?" he whispered.
"Yes, yes!" Wing Ho whispered back. "Here, take them
already!"
Mousse donned the goggles, then glanced at the card in
his hand again.
"Wow! Hey, I can read the card without even holding it
up to my face!"
Wing Ho winced. "Then read it, you fool!"
"Oh yeah. Um... Wow, what clarity of vision! I can see
for miles and miles! Um... shouldn't that be kilometers? Oh
well... ahem... Thank you, my good man! You have certainly
changed my life! Now how much do I owe you for these
amazing glasses?"
With a huge grin, Wing Ho turned to face the small crowd
that had gathered to witness their unusual spectacle.
"Why, friend, they are available to anyone for the low
introductory price of only 30,000 yen! Buy yours today, and
see what you are missing! Wing Ho's Amazing Perfect Vision
Glasses! Ask for them by name!"
Wing Ho stepped back and smiled at the crowd
expectantly.
After several moments of mostly blank stares, he added,
"I'm taking orders right now! Don't all crowd in at once!"
***
Nabiki stood on the street corner and watched with
interest.
She'd been heading back to Nerima after some downtown
shopping, when she'd happened across this quaint little scene.
Imagine, an optometrist, selling on the street corner, like some
turn-of-the-century sideshow carney. And they weren't even
designer sunglasses he was hawking, or anything with any
particular brand name or style. They were just basic glasses,
the sort that near-sighted people like Mousse always wore, only
more stupid looking than usual.
It was entertaining, in it's own way, but it was hardly great
advertising. Mostly it was inept and amateurish. Clearly most
of the crowd did not grasp how very blind Mousse really was,
or how the glasses improved his vision.
At that moment, Mousse looked directly at her. "Nabiki?"
he called out over the crowd. "What are you doing here?"
Nabiki's eyes narrowed. Mousse recognized her, at this
distance? She was a good hundred feet away, at the back of the
crowd.
Apparently this Chinese optometrist really had something
after all. Interesting.
The man was still going about it all wrong. He needed a
demonstration that would get people's attention, not something
out of an amateur street-corner theater.
"Ha!" the man standing next to her said. "Do they thing
I'm stupid? No one is that blind! They mock me!"
Nabiki looked the man up and down. He was huge and
well muscled -- a construction worker, by the look of his
clothes, and not a bright one, by the look of his face.
An idea struck her. "You should have heard what he said
about your mother," she replied calmly.
"What?" The man growled. The veins in his forehead
bulged. "What did he say?"
"I'm afraid that I can't repeat it in polite company."
***
Mousse was staring into the crowd. He was certain he'd
seen the middle Tendo sister, but then...
"Do the demonstration again!" Wing Ho reached up and
pulled the goggles from Mousse's face. "They weren't paying
attention the first time! Do it again!"
Mousse sighed. "Okay," he said, "but I really don't
think..."
"YOU! WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY
MOTHER!"
"Huh?" Mousse turned about, and was confronted by a
large, blurry blob. "What? I didn't say..."
"Like hell you didn't! Take this!"
Mousse wasn't expecting the punch, but then, he'd trained
his whole life to avoid unexpected attacks. He dodged to the
left, feeling a light brush against his check as the fist went past.
He stepped backwards and then ducked, as two more punches
failed to connect.
"Wait! I didn't... Hold it! What's this all ab... Damn it, I
don't..."
Whoever was attacking him wasn't bad. A punch finally
landed, with enough force to knock Mousse back several feet.
Backing into Wing Ho, Mousse reached behind, grabbed a
wrist, and tore the goggles from the optometrist's grasp.
"Now then," Mousse said, sliding the goggles over his
face. Some sort of over-muscled construction worker was
charging him. Mousse leapt, sailing over the outstretched arms
of his opponent, and landing a good fifteen feet behind him.
Mousse turned. Chains shot from his sleeves, wrapping
about the construction worker. A moment later, his opponent
was sailing across the street, where he collided with a utility
pole, collapsed to the ground, and ceased to move.
The crowd gaped in silence. Mousse brushed his hair
back, pleased but trying to act nonchalant.
"That was amazing!" Wing Ho exclaimed.
"Well," Mousse said, "I told you I was a martial artist."
Moments later Wing Ho was swamped with people
begging for a pair of his amazing glasses. Mousse stood to the
side, his job done. He scanned the crowd for Nabiki Tendo,
but she was nowhere to be seen.
***
"Twenty-eight orders in one day! That's my best day
ever! I'm going to be quite busy grinding out all of those
lenses!"
Mousse and Wing Ho walked through the streets of
Tokyo, headed back the train station. They cut down a back
alley.
"I owe you my thanks, Mousse," Wing Ho continued. "I
could not have done it without you."
Mousse grinned. He was having a good time. "You gave
me these wonderful goggles for free. It is I who must thank
you."
Mousse was not, however, in such a good mood that his
senses deserted him. He suddenly put out his arm, bringing his
companion to a halt.
"What's up?" Wing Ho asked, before he, too, saw the two
large men at the end of the alley. He looked back, where a
third, even larger man, stood.
"Hey," he said, "what's this about?"
"Money," one of the two in front said. He produced a
large cleaver. "Your money. It belongs to us now, so hand it
over."
"Oh, yeah? Well it just so happens that my friend here's
an expert martial artist! If you come any closer, he'll tear you
apart."
"Thanks a lot," Mousse hissed. "It's already three on one,
and now I've lost the element of surprise...."
"Oh, sorry."
"Martial artist, eh?" the one with the cleaver said. All
three were advancing, casually but deliberately. "Well, it just
so happens that my boys and I are martial artists too, after a
fashion. In fact, we're the best in the whole neighborhood, and
since we've never heard of you, boy...."
"The name," Mousse said, in a voice that was calm and
controlled, but which held immanent danger, "is Mousse. I'm
from the amazon village of Joketsuzoku, in China, but I live in
Nerima now...."
One thug's footsteps faltered. "Nerima!" he exclaimed.
"Is there a problem, Kaeru?" the one with the cleaver
growled.
"I heard what they're like in Nerima," the other said.
"You don't want to mess with a martial artist from Nerima...."
"Shut up! It's three on one, and he ain't got any weapons!"
Mousse laughed loud and deep. Wing Ho dove behind a
nearby garbage hopper.
"No weapons, that you can see," Mousse said. He flung
his arms out, and chains shot everywhere.
On the right, the man with the cleaver ducked and rolled,
coming up right in front of Mousse. He swung hard, and
Mousse barely had time to dodge back. Two small knives
came flying at him from the left, and Mousse wasn't able to
dodge both. One buried itself in his forearm, held up to shield
his face.
Mousse felt an attack from behind, and spun. A baseball
bat swung at him, and for a brief moment he froze. It crashed
into his chest, knocking him back toward where Wing Ho was
hiding.
"I thought you were a martial artist!" Wing Ho yelled.
"Do something! They're going to take my money!"
"So much detail," Mousse said dazedly. He'd never
actually seen attacks coming at him with quite this much
clarity. It was unnerving, and threw his rhythm off. He was
thinking rather than reacting.
He'd experienced the same thing this morning, with
Kuno's lightning bokken attacks, but he'd simply leapt
backwards, launched a counter-attack, and it had been over.
This was different; there were three opponents attacking from
three different directions. Mousse was having problems
processing it all.
He yanked the throwing knife from his arm and allowed it
to clatter to the pavement. Blood dripped down his arm and
splattered beside it. The three thugs had him backed up against
the wall, with Wing Ho and the trash bin on his right. At least,
he thought, they were all in front of him now.
"You see, Kaeru?" the one with the cleaver sneered. "You
can't always believe what you hear. Martial artists don't leap
tall buildings with a single bound; they're human beings just
like us."
Mousse closed his eyes. More than once, people had
suggested that he practice blind fighting styles. This had
always angered him. He'd specifically avoided studying
anything related to blind combat, but he could not deny that he
relied far less on sight than the average fighter. Suddenly,
being able to see every move of his opponent, every sneer,
every feint and attack, was becoming a real problem. It was
hindering him, instead of helping him.
But without sight, he could still sense his opponents as
they moved in. The sounds of their feet scuffing on the
pavement, their labored breathing, the slight shifts in the air as
their arm swung forward...
"Hakuchoken!" Mousse yelled. His hands moved, too
quickly for the human eye to track. There was a satisfying
thunk, and a groan as someone collapsed to the ground.
"Ha! Fist of the White Swan!"
He sensed another attack coming at him from the right.
Mousse leapt straight into the air. The swishing he heard was
the sound of a knife cutting the air where he'd just been
standing.
"Takazumeken!" Mousse yelled as he descended upon his
prey. "Hawk Talon Attack!" He felt the talons now protruding
from the front of his shoes bite into flesh and bone.
Mousse landed and opened his eyes. One thug was lying
to the left, unconscious. The second was rolling on the ground,
holding his shoulder. His shirt was torn and already soaked
with blood.
The third thug dropped his cleaver and ran. Mousse
casually tossed a chain after him, and with a flick of the wrist,
sent him crashing into the wall.
Wing Ho stood up from his hiding place.
"Wow!" he said. "You're the best I've ever seen! I bet
you never lose!"
Mousse's shoulders slumped. He winced as he grabbed
his bleeding forearm. "No," he said. "I was weak and stupid. I
almost lost. At this rate, I'll never be ready to fight Ranma.
Never."
***
Wing Ho slapped a bottle of wine down on his
workbench.
"You could do with a little cheering up," he said to
Mousse, seated across from him. "I won't tell the authorities if
you won't."
Mousse smiled. "Under Amazon law, I'm already old
enough to drink."
Wing Ho's workshop was cluttered with cutting and
grinding tools, bits of glass, and old books, stacked
everywhere. The entire room was coated with a fine layer of
glass dust. It even coated the shop vacuum that sat in the
corner, apparently unused.
"Good! Good!" Wing Ho said. "I need someone to help
me toast my new success. Share a drink with me, then!" He
struggled to pull the cork, and Mousse took the bottle from his
hands.
"Allow me," Mousse said. Moments later, the cork
impaled on some unusual piece of weaponry, Mousse began
pouring. He winced with each movement of his punctured
arm.
"You should have that looked at," Wing Ho said. "It
probably needs to be washed and bandaged."
"The bleeding's stopped. I'll have Shampoo see to it when
I get home."
With a jingle of bells, the front door of the shop opened.
"Sorry," Wing Ho called out, "I'm closed for the day!"
A sharply dressed young woman with short, dark hair
stepped through the curtain and into the workroom.
"I'm not here to buy anything," she said. "I have a
proposition for you."
"Nabiki?" Mousse said, looking up.
"Hello, Mousse. How's the arm?" She held up a first aid
kit. "I can bandage that if you like. I've become good at it over
the years."
"Do you know this woman?" Wing Ho asked.
Mousse nodded. "Tendo Nabiki," he said, "of the Tendo
Training Hall."
"Ah! Another martial artist, then?"
"Hardly," Nabiki said. She moved a chair into position
and quickly set to bandaging Mousse's arm.
"Listen, Hot Wing, baby...", she said as she worked.
"Wing Ho. My name is Wing Ho."
"Yes, of course. You want to make money, am I right?
My name is Nabiki Tendo, and making money is what I do.
Mousse here will verify that for me."
"She runs rackets on all my fights with Ranma," Mousse
said, wincing again. "Hey! I thought you said you were
good!"
"Stop complaining! Are you a man? I've watched
Kasumi do this hundreds of times, and there's nothing to it!"
"Ow!"
"Anyway... bookmaking. A vulgar, if essentially correct,
way of putting it," Nabiki said. "Now, Wing baby, I saw your
little demonstration in downtown Tokyo earlier today. I can
see that you have a product that could sell big, but you don't
know how to reach your customer...."
"I've sold nearly thirty pairs already, in only a day!"
"Yes, yes, and I'm sure you think that's good, but I'm
talking sales in the hundreds of thousands, with worldwide
distribution...."
"Impossible!" Wing Ho slammed his glass into the table.
"Never could I make so many!"
Nabiki looked shocked. "You, make them? That's what
you have employees for, Wing baby." She glanced back at
Mousse. "I'm done, by the way. That should keep you, for
now, but have the mummy woman look at it."
The Chinese optometrist was shaking his head.
"Absolutely not. I would have to teach them the secret
techniques of perfect lens grinding, and I refuse to do so. I am
the only one who can do it! Only me! Nobody else! Me!"
Nabiki frowned for just a moment. "Okay, okay, I hear
you. What you're saying, in essence, is that you want to keep
this a small operation. That's fine too... but obviously, you
need me even more than before. If you're the sole member of
the production team, then you don't have time for
administrative details. I can handle that for you. Also, you're
going to want to leverage the price up substantially. What you
have is a rare, limited edition, handcrafted, collectible product.
No price is too great for something like that."
"I can not charge too high. Nobody will buy."
"That's where I come in. Marketing is the key, and I'm
not talking about sidewalk hawking. Make me your partner,
and I'll steer you to the path of riches and glory."
Wing Ho downed another drink. "I am already on my
way to riches and glory," he said with authority. "I have no
need of your help!"
"Wing Ho," Mousse said, "I know she's a pushy
woman...." Nabiki shot him a glare, which he ignored. "...but
she has a point. You can't grind as many lenses if you spend
all of your time running the shop and bringing in business.
Even the Nekohanten wouldn't survive if there weren't three of
us running it. And it's true, she's very good at making money.
She may have a few ideas to help you sell better."
The optometrist frowned, and then said, "Very well. I'm
listening."
Nabiki nodded. "For one, you need a good name. I was
thinking 'Hot Wing Shades'."
Wing Ho slammed his drink down again. "They're
glasses, not 'shades'!" he yelled, "and I told you, my name is
Wing Ho, not 'Hot Wing'."
"Yes," Nabiki said, "but 'Wing Ho's Amazing Perfect
Vision Glasses' just doesn't cut it. You want something that's
catchy, something that sounds cool to wear. Well, we can
settle for 'Wing's Shades' or something.
"Now, as for advertising... what you want is a
demonstration that will make people sit up and take notice.
Tell me, do you know who the greatest martial artist in Nerima
is?"
"Mousse," the optometrist said.
"Hardly. Barring an old crone here and an old pervert
there, Ranma Saotome is acknowledged as the greatest martial
artist in Nerima, if not all of Tokyo proper."
"Ah, the one Mousse quarrels with. So? What has this to
do with me?"
Nabiki smiled. "Wing, baby, you haven't been in Nerima
long, have you?"
The optometrist shook his head. "I opened my shop only
two months ago."
"I can tell. Perhaps you haven't noticed, but Nerima is
infested with martial artists. It's a real epidemic, and I'm not
just talking about casual judo and karate students. I'm talking
about people who've dedicated their lives to the study of the
arts. Mousse here is a prime example, a master of hidden
weapons, and he's really one of the lesser powers that be...."
"Hey!" Mousse growled. "I'm one of the best!"
"No offense, Mousse, but I can name at least six people
who I'd give good odds of beating you in any fight."
"Name them!"
"Ranma, Ryoga, Shampoo, Cologne, Happosai, and
Hinako-Sensei," Nabiki said, ticking them off on her fingers.
"I can provide reasons why you would lose to each of them, if
you like. I would also give near-even odds for you against my
father or Mr. Saotome in a fight, or Kodachi Kuno, and I'm not
even going to mention all of the occasional visitors to Nerima -
- Tarou, Toma, Herb, Kirin, Ryuu Kumon, Lin-Lin and Ran-
Ran, Pink and Link, or my supposed sisters Natsumi and
Kurumi...."
"Okay, okay! You've made your point! But I'm getting
better!"
"Indeed. That's why I'm here. If it helps, you definitely
have an edge on Ukyo, or Kuno-kun, or my sister for that
matter."
Mousse scuffed the white dust on the floor of the shop.
"Gee, thanks a lot," he muttered.
"You've spent time thinking about this," Wing Ho said.
"It's my job to handicap these things," Nabiki said simply.
"Well," Wing Ho said, "I guess now I know why there
isn't much of a Yakuza presence around here."
Nabiki smiled sweetly. "They pretty much avoid
Nerima," she said, "a fact that I find useful. As I was about to
say, your friend here is in the habit of challenging Ranma on a
regular basis. He's never won a single match, and nobody
believes he ever will, but he keeps challenging him anyway.
Now, his failure is due, in part, to his poor vision, so your
goggles improve his chances a great deal. With my help, I
think we could stack the odds enough in his favor that he could
win."
"That's nice," Wing Ho said, "but I thought you were here
to help me sell goggles."
"You're not listening to me," Nabiki said. "ALL OF
NERIMA KNOWS THAT MOUSSE CAN NEVER BEAT
RANMA! Everyone knows this, except reclusive newcomers
like you! Now, if your glasses help Mousse finally win, you
have the undivided attention of everyone in Nerima!
Guaranteed! You can't buy advertising like that! Afterwards,
you could name your price, and people would pay it!"
Wing Ho considered this for several minutes, stroking his
chin thoughtfully.
"If what you say is true," he finally said, "then... perhaps
I'd consider a partnership after all."
"Do you really think I could beat Ranma?" Mousse asked.
"With Wing's Shades," Nabiki said, "and my help, I know
you can!"
***
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